The Owl and the Swan
by IrishIris
Summary: The queen of the goblins shall become a girl, and the king will search among children.
1. The Wedding

A/N: Welcome! Please read, or you might be terribly confused!  
This story is based on my understanding of an Irish myth where a fae queen becomes human. Therefore, for the first few chapters you won't see the name "Sarah" anywhere. Queen Etain becomes Sarah later on, though her character remains the same. Just wanted to clarify, because I would hate for someone to think I'm writing a Jareth/OC story.

Got it? Good! On with the story!  
I don't own Labyrinth or the centuries-old story, "The Wooing of Etain." Alas.

Chapter One

Our story begins at a wedding.

The tinkling sounds of wine glasses, jewels, and baubles on the breeze can be heard even before the voices. White drapes, illuminated by thousands of candles from inside a ballroom, billow out windows into the night. For miles around, the rolling countryside is quiet and empty. Everyone is at the party.

Guests came from the ends of the Underground to attend the event of the year- the nuptial ball of King Jareth and Queen Etain. While fae, nymph, and elf alike spun and twirled around the dance floor, the royal couple stood on a dais high above the rest, still receiving the last of the warm wishes.

"You have no idea how happy I am to see you married well, sire," an old fae Lady said to King Jareth as she held onto his hand with both her frail ones. "And to such a pretty thing, too."

Queen Etain blushed but said nothing, preferring to just curtsey to the woman. It wasn't hard for the Queen to let the long veil attached to her new crown cover her face when she came upright again.

"You know," the King said, not even looking at Etain, "you're absolutely correct. I imagine it'll be a wild night, wouldn't you say?" His eyes waggled at the old woman, daring her to take offense.

If Etain was uncomfortable with the innuendo, she didn't show it. The old woman did, however, and left after giving the King a disgusted look.

The King took his reserved seat and put his polished leather boots up on the table. "And that, my dear, is how you rid yourself of unwanted guests. Gods, she was as clingy as a human, that one." He conjured up a crystal and began rolling it over his fingers, idly.

The Queen cleared her throat. "Would you mind if I took my leave for a bit, my lord?" she asked formally, "Your advisor has asked for a dance this evening, and I want to keep my promise before I get too tired. It's been such a busy few days."

"Well I wouldn't want you too tired before tonight," he said with a rakish grin, "but yes, go ahead. I'll catch up with you later."

She left without a glance backward. The King's advisor was the only true friend she had at the party, and she'd been dying to see him since the sun broke through her curtains that morning. Though her friends were few, there were plenty of acquaintances from back home whom she'd been forced to invite. In the midst of her search, she was stopped by every one of them. And she would have dutifully remained in the thick of these status-climbing guests had she not felt a tap on her shoulder.

"I believe you promised me a dance, your _Highness_," a male voice said. She gave a sigh of relief and turned around. He looked like a boy at his first ball: his long, sleek cape swished around him, his eyes were wildly made up with dozens of colors, and his smile was as impish as any debutante. She could almost forget he was a full century older than her.

Queen Etain smiled her first genuine smile of the night, and all her weariness melted away. "Of course, Mithir. I'd actually come down here to find you and got… a little sidetracked."

"I understand. I'm sure it's hard to get away on your wedding day." He gallantly offered his hand and led her away from the clingy guests.

He took her onto the emptying dance floor where they fell into a strange, complementary rhythm. She was grateful for Mithir's presence to help her ignore the crowds at the edges of the dance floor; she still wasn't used to being watched so intently, and especially when performing this particular waltz. The formal, ritualistic dances the noblest fae preferred were danced in close, almost indecent proximity and involved lots of spinning. Etain wanted no part of them.

Her preferred style of dance was reminiscent of a swan, all arched back and dancing up on her toes. She longed to keep her arms wide apart in little half arcs, spinning every so often. And then Mithir would come in to toss her into the air when the low winds joined the song, as he had so often when they were children. Almost as if he could sense her unease, Mithir got a twinkle in his eye. She had only enough time to quirk an eyebrow up at him before he grabbed her by the waist and tossed her slight frame high in the air. She squawked and, without thinking, slipped into her avian form before she could fall back down. The room gave a collective gasp; transformation magic was increasingly rare among the fae of the Underground. They watched with mouths wide as she flapped her snowy white wings and landed gracefully on the ground before rising as a woman once more.

Jareth was staring at her with arms crossed from the band's stage. He gave her a cutting look that she couldn't decipher, but he didn't give her time to analyze it.

"And a one, two, three, four!" He clapped, and the band followed him into a jolly piece of music fit to shake the rafters of the ballroom. The guests cheered and joined him on the dance floor. The strange, magical interlude was forgotten.

"What was that about?" the King said harshly in her ear once he reached her. Mithir nodded at them both and bowed out, giving her an apologetic look. The King ignored him and continued, "We'll do a proper wedding dance now. Follow my lead."

And she did. She followed his lead all through the night and long after she'd stopped reminding him of her fatigue. He pushed her onward, dance after dance until he was holding her nearly limp body to his chest. He finally dropped her into a chair to bid farewell to the last remaining guests, and she fell asleep almost instantly.

When she felt herself being cradled against his chest and carried up the stairs to his bedroom, she panicked. He'd be expecting the _wedding night _to begin. How could she possibly follow through in this state? The only thing her sleep-addled brain could think to do was lock the door to his bedroom with a little of her magic. He wouldn't be so ungentlemanly as to demand his rights in _her_ room. She tried to give the impression of sleeping in his arms as she waited. Thank goodness he couldn't read her mind just yet.

She heard him curse and fidget with the lock, even going so far as to throw a crystal at it. But eventually he gave up and went down the hall, opening her bedroom door with ease. He laid her on the bed and looked at her for a few moments. Etain fought the urge to squirm uncomfortably under his stare.

"Until tomorrow night, my Queen," he said. When he closed the door quietly behind him, she was able to breathe again. She snuggled into her plush comforter, kicking out of her dress and veil from under the covers.

When she was finally on the brink of sleep, a sigh came from her mouth: "I wish Jareth would love me, properly." And though she was too tired to decipher if it was spoken aloud or in the first hints of her dream, an unnoticed pulse of magic rippled from the center of the castle anyway.

A/N: And there you are! Leave a contribution/review in the little box.


	2. A Visit to Goblin City

A/N: And here we are! I've been hoping to upload every week, so as reparation for a late upload, I offer you a much longer chapter. Enjoy! Don't own anything, bladdidy blah.

A month after the wedding, Etain woke up wondering if she'd ever been so happy in her life. It was the first day back from the couple's "honeymoon." Though the royals hadn't been able to escape responsibilities on an actual vacation, it had been relaxing and for Etain, illuminating. For example, she had no idea Jareth could sing until she accidentally walked into his "solo concert" in the shower, complete with strutting and singing into a comb. Jareth had brutishly asked her to leave after that, but the image of her new husband covered in suds and belting at the top of his lungs was worth it.

As Etain stretched, she could feel a large, soft hand draped over her shoulder, and a warm body was curled up around her from behind. Bright sunlight streamed into the King's chambers, and a few birds could be heard singing in the breeze. The sweet smell of breakfast wafted over from a side table, so mouth-watering that Etain decided it was necessary to untangle herself. She followed the thread in her mind that was now linked to his and sensed he was still in a deep sleep. Perfect.

A few minutes later, she had spread jam on her toast and was halfway through the slab of roast pork when Jareth awoke. Etain could feel him groping around for her, first with his mind, and then with his feet.

"It's cold without you, precious," he mumbled before rolling over and pulling the blankets around him.

Etain giggled. She abandoned her breakfast, pouncing onto the bed and trapping him with her arms and long hair.

"You promised me that we'd ride into the Goblin City today, dear."

The pinned royal opened one eye. "So I did. But I did not mention what time." Etain opened her mouth to protest, but Jareth laid a single finger on her lips. He was smiling. "And even if I had, I certainly would not be required to be up at this ungodly hour to keep my promise."

Etain didn't answer, but kissed his fingertip. This lead to a repeat of the same activities which had kept them up until far past daybreak, but they need not be mentioned here. Suffice it to say, a few hours later, the two monarchs had thoroughly woken up and were preparing themselves for their days.

Back in her own chambers, Etain was changing into a riding dress with the help of her Goblin maid, Gurkle.

"Hold still, milady," Gurkle said, standing on top of a stool and trying to fasten the dozens of snaps up the back of the dress. Etain was attempting to pin her hair up simultaneously to save time, since she was hoping to explore more of the Castle before she rode with Jareth into the city.

Arranged marriages in the Underground didn't allow for many visits before the nuptials, and Etain still struggled to make it from her chambers to the kitchens without getting lost. The second day, she'd attempted to use her new found bond with Jareth to access a mental map of the castle, but he'd slammed up his mind walls and warned her not to poke around without warning again. Not eager for a repeat performance, Etain had accepted that it would take a while to learn the twisting, repetitive corridors by heart.

"Sorry, Gurkle. I'm not used to having help getting ready. I do appreciate it, though. These dresses are so much fancier and more complicated than my dresses back home."

"That's ok, milady. I imagine you had plenty of nice things back in Cambria though, yes?"

"Oh yes," Etain said, thinking of her wardrobe full of sleek gowns and soft leather britches. "But for all our money, father was uncomfortable with having servants. To be honest, I wasn't sure about how I would feel living in a castle with so many servants."

Gurkle bristled behind Etain, and her voice was tight. "And now that you're here, what do you think?"

Etain turned around, immediately trying to clarify. "Oh, you're all wonderful! It's obvious there needs to be a good team here to keep this castle running, and even the little Goblins help. I believe I met your Gurkie Jr. yesterday at dinner, right?"

Gurkle beamed. Etain was glad she'd paid attention to the staff last night while she ate. "It was indeed him, milady. Young Gurk will make a fine butler someday, if I do say so myself."

A tug of irritation came from the mental link in Etain's mind. "Oh goodness," she said, dropping the hand mirror she'd grabbed to check her hair from the back. "Gurkle, do I look ok? I'm think I'm late."

Gurkle gave Etain a quick once over, handing her the forgotten spiked crown before shooing her towards the door. "Bring the throne room right outside your hallway, milady. It'll save traveling time."

"Bring it? What do you mean?"

"You royals have that magicy stuff. Make the throne room be right outside."

Etain had never considered that her magic would render her capable of reordering space like that. Though she was far more advanced in magic than anyone from her homeland, the thought of such a feat was daunting. An impatient King was even more so, however, and so she closed her eyes and set her mind on the placement of the throne room in space. She recreated its entirety in her mind, down to the last paving stone and pane of window glass. And then she stepped through her door.

"Took you long enough," the King muttered while checking the straps on his soft, leather gloves, not even noticing the breathless pride on his bride's face. Apparently, the doting, loving Jareth from the bedroom didn't show himself in public. "Come, I've had our horses already prepared."

Etain dipped her head in a slight curtsy of apology and fell in step a half-pace behind her King, her fingers shaking with concealed excitement. _I can move the castle! _She whisper shouted to herself, safe behind her own mental walls.

As Etain bounced along sidesaddle towards the heart of the Goblin City, she wondered if the stories were true. As a child, she'd been told tale after tale of the fearsome Goblin King and the wild subjects he ruled over. The Goblins who served in the King's castle were almost a different breed; their levels of intelligence were nearly that of a Fae, and their preference for cleanliness and order made them perfect household servants.

But the _goblins, _those native to the Goblin City, were rumored to be a different beast entirely. No diplomatic visitors to the Goblin King would ever be offered a tour of the city, it was told. No citizen of a foreign land had ever set foot within the city limits. And most interestingly, no one had ever seen one of these wild goblins in the last five thousand years. Yet still the stories persisted of the chaotic horde and the Fae powerful enough (and chaotic enough himself) to tame them. When Etain's father told her who she was intended to marry, she'd almost fainted of fright. Now she was with the powerful, chaotic ruler himself, and headed straight for the center of the Goblin City.

"Are you nervous?" The Goblin King asked her with a smile that showed his canine teeth.

The Queen looked about her entourage of Goblin guards and her husband dressed in full regalia. She herself looked quite fearsome with the spiked crown. "It'll be a piece of cake." She said, flashing him an equally toothy grin, before galloping off ahead of him.

_Etain!_ The King yelled in her mind, and she stopped immediately. He trotted up behind her and gave the appearance that he was staring straight ahead. _What_ _were you thinking? You haven't the foggiest idea what this city holds, and you think a little showmanship is enough to awe the goblin horde? You underestimate those tales you were told as a child._

Etain looked sharply at him. She hadn't expected him to hear the little stories parents told their misbehaving children.

The King continued, snorting mentally. _Oh, I've heard the stories. I invented most of them, though you'll have to regale me some night with the varieties you've heard for me to be completely sure. It didn't suit me to have snoops and spies lurking in my Goblin City, so I conjured up images of wild, mini-monsters. _By this point, they had reached the large, wrought bronze gates, sealed tight with the King's magic.

_When I open these doors, I expect you to stay close to me. If you wander off, I'll let the city teach you its own lessons about listening to my advice. Understood, precious?_

Etain nodded, and the gates opened without a creak. As if the gates were also sound barriers, a cacophonous racket tore out from all angles, bouncing off the tightly packed buildings in a race to greet the King and Queen.

And the goblins! Etain had never dreamed there were so many different kinds. As she rode by alongside the King, she tried to see even two that looked similar. There were tall goblins that were nearly eye-to-eye with her on the horse, two-headed goblins, goblins with reptilian tails, even a few goblins with wings. And the chickens! The street was thick with them, and the horses kept whinnying to scare them out of the way. The goblins knew better, though. Regardless of type, all of them fawned over the King and Queen from the side ("Lookie at dems! Deys so purdy!"), and they all were trying to be the first to wave or throw a "flower" (really a black bundle of chicken feathers) at the new Queen. Etain caught one such bundle from a little goblin in a dirty pink dress. She waved in thanks and the girl goblin gave such an ear-splitting shout of happiness that Etain decided to catch no more such gifts. Jareth chuckled beside her, shaking his head.

"Queenie! Queenie!" a bug-eyed goblin called from a rooftop. When she looked up, the goblin kicked a fat, black chicken off the roof towards her. The goblins below shrieked their appreciation when chicken shit and feathers began raining down from the sky. It was a hideous mockery of the flower-petal parades Etain had been treated to in Cambria on her return home from her engagement visit. Etain grabbed the reins of her mare and maneuvered around the falling turds, ducking away from her entourage and under the awning of a fruit vendor.

"Your majesty?" a gravely voice said from below. Etain looked and saw an inconspicuous brown goblin, no different than the rest. Except… Etain looked with her magic and could detect a well-concealed glamour. Strange. Either goblins were magic-users, which she'd been taught all along was not the case, or someone was masquerading as a goblin, which was even less likely. In any case, she backed up away from the creature.

"I just wanted to give you this, kind Lady. For being our new, benevolent Queen." The little goblin held out a perfectly ripe peach. Etain, guarded against accepting goblin gifts now, held back. "Oh please, your majesty," the goblin whined, "it took me all day to find one like this, without even a blemish!"

It was the effort that the little goblin (or not goblin) had put into the gift that finally softened Etain's skeptical heart. Though she was suspicious, she took the fruit, thanked the pitiful creature, and then slipped the gift into her saddlebag, her intention being to throw it away once she got home.

The peach was forgotten, however, in the argument that passed between the royal couple through the rest of the tour of the city and all the way back home. Not daring to argue in front of their goblin entourage, the King berated Etain through their minds for disobeying him and leaving his side while in the city. The Queen, with less passion but much more logic, reminded the King of the falling chicken turds. The King was ruthless, though, and in the end the Queen gave in and apologized. She also informed the King that she would be sleeping in her own quarters that night.

For hours that night, Etain tossed and turned in her bed while her stomach churned and complained. She hadn't done more than pick at her supper. It was in the wee hours of the morning between 12 and 13 o'clock that she remembered the peach in her travel sack. She pulled the covers aside and tip-toed over and pulled the fuzzy fruit out from the bag. She looked it over in the moonlight, both for physical and magical abnormalities. It was good for eating, she could tell; not a mark or bruise on it. And she couldn't sense anything about the peach that didn't have Jareth's magical seal on it, as all fruit should if it grew from the Goblin Kingdom. Etain took a tiny bite from the upper corner. The taste melted in her mouth, and she looked at the fruit with new eyes. She devoured the rest, lapping up the juices and tearing into the soft flesh.

She had almost consumed the entire peach, leaving only a small mouthful on the pit, when she started feeling funny. Her vision began splitting into two different fields of vision, then four, then eight. Her sides began aching terribly, as if something was trying to push its way out from either side. When she held her hands up to inspect them when they suddenly became itchy, she noticed thick black hairs sprouting up all over her skin.

A scream- her scream- echoed all over the castle as she passed out.

A/N: What do you think? I'm always ready to hear your questions/confusion/criticism, so lay it on!


	3. The Golden Fly

A/N: Happy Easter to you all! Enjoy the next chapter. :)

* * *

Jareth woke with a terrible feeling. He first lunged for his connection to the land. Had there been an intruder? No, nothing felt wrong. The Goblin Kingdom slept peacefully through the night. It was when he magically felt around the castle for the source of his jolt that he noticed the absence of his wife's mind. In a shower of glitter, he appeared before her door.

"Etain?" He knocked, hoping that her silence had been a mistake, but he found the door already open. He stepped a foot inside, but there was no blood on the walls, no dead Queen in the room. It was simply empty. Jareth tapped a passing goblin, briefly recognizing how strange it was for a goblin to be in the castle before asking her to wake his advisor. Mithir needed to be here.

Jareth paced the room as the minutes ticked by, waiting for his advisor, when suddenly his wife's mental presence flickered to life in his mind again.

"Etain?" he breathed, looking under the bed and rummaging through the closet, "Where are you, precious? I can sense you, but…"

A shaky voice came from Etain's mind _I'm here. But…I don't think I'm Fae anymore._

"What are you talking about? Where are you?" Jareth was still looking in any nook and cranny of the room where a slender Fae woman could fit.

Etain projected a mental image which gave Jareth a headache to look at. The image was a distorted picture of the room, cut into hundreds of different factions. _Jareth. I can feel six furry legs and wings. I'm on top of my pillow. _

Jareth felt nauseous as he stepped over to the Queen's large, four-poster bed, where sure enough, a small, golden fly was sitting atop the largest pillow.

"Am I too late? What's happening? Where's the Queen? I heard a scream. Is she alright?" Mithir babbled as he slid on slippered feet into the Queen's room, bathrobe flapping behind him.

Jareth couldn't say anything, only putting both hands gently underneath the golden fly and cradling it. _I'm so sorry, precious. Mithir will help. We'll return you to your body once more._

"Sire? Why are you holding a bug?"

"Mithir. We have a problem." He looked at the golden fly, biting his lip. Jareth's attention focused back on the Etain-bug when he recognized a sense of deep contentment coming from his wife. This annoyed him. _Do you enjoy being a bug so much? _

He could feel Etain shaking her head, mentally. _No, dear. It's just nice to see you so concerned about me. It feels nice._

_When you assume your wife of barely a week is dead or kidnapped, knowing she's alive in any form will be a tremendous comfort,_ Jareth snapped.

_Yes, I'm sure the next time that happens I'll feel just the same._ Etain playfully danced on his fingers. Jareth wondered if the transformation had messed with her emotional center.

Mithir was looking at everything except for his King caressing a bug, and his eyes travelled around the dark room. "I'm sorry, your Majesty. Where's the Queen?"

Jareth merely lifted his hands slightly, indicating tiny fly resting there.

Mithir's face contorted, slightly disgusted as he stood sweating in the doorway. "Are you sure that's her, your Majesty? Perhaps someone has confused you."

Etain responded for him by testing out her wings, flying the short distance to the door and landing on Mithir's shoulder. Both the men in the room stared at astonishment at the short flight. The fact that she could fly, while by itself it was not that impressive, paled in comparison to the _sound_ that she made in her flight. Her tiny, golden wings beat together a humming melody that stalled both their hearts with its beauty.

"Hello, Etain," Mithir murmured to the fly.

A crashing sound came from the hallway. Jareth pushed Mithir aside to investigate, still on edge and alert for intruders, but all he found was the little goblin girl. She'd tripped on a suit of armor in the hallway and had cut herself on the leg. Thick, bronze blood oozed out from the wound.

"Clumsy fool," Jareth said under his breath, and bent down to heal her. "Mithir, do you know of any enchanters in the neighboring kingdoms who have this power of transformation?"

Etain fluttered to Jareth's shoulder to see the commotion, and gasped at what she saw. With her fly's eyes, she could not only see the brown goblin from a couple hundred slightly different angles, but she could also see the woman behind the goblin glamour. She had thick, rouged lips and a long black, cascading dress, much like some of the women from the wedding Jareth had referred to as "meddling concubines." The woman was staring right at Jareth, who was still bandaging her wound, and she was practically drooling.

Etain flew at the woman, intending to bite her a thousand times. The noise her wings made was like a hive of bees, and it sent the goblin scrambling back away. Jareth, also startled by the noise, grabbed her out of the air and trapped her gently in his cupped hands.

_Etain, _he asked, searching her tiny body for the cause of her distress, _what is it? _Etain, too furious for words, merely allowed him to look through her eyes and see the duplicitous woman.

Jareth's eyes narrowed at the goblin when he opened his eyes. They were solid as ice. "By the power of the Goblin Kingdom, by the power of the Seelie court, by the powers of day and night and my own self, I command you- drop your glamour." With such a force behind his words, the woman instantly appeared. She was beautiful, draped in flowing, expensive silks that showed off her every curve and line. Jareth deposited Etain in Mithir's hands, hoisted the woman up from the floor, and shoved her up against the brick wall of the hallway, so hard that it cracked.

"What have you done to my wife, you wench?" he snarled.

She smiled easily, "I knew you'd remember how to shove when you got angry enough. My next plan had been to get you drunk on Goblin ale. I've missed our romps around the castle."

"You tread a dangerous path," Jareth hissed. "She is _my_ wife and _your_ Queen. I could have you arrested and sentenced for treason. Undo the damage that has been done."

"Do you _wish _it?" The woman was giving him such a leer that if Mithir hadn't been holding Etain prisoner in his closed hands, the Fae woman would have been sporting dozens of fly bites already.

Jareth looked at the woman with utter hatred, but he gave in. "Yes, Roxa, I wish it. Whore of the Unseelie and spawn of a human, fix what you've done!"

The woman's face broke out in glee. "For shame, Jareth. You always taught me to use words with _care. _You wished me to "undo the damage," and from my point of view, the damage is this broken heart you've left me with. So since you've wished it whole again…" With a flick of her wrist, Mithir had disappeared, and Etain was left fluttering. Before Jareth restrained her, Roxa wound up her other hand and smacked the Etain-bug into the wall of the hallway, _hard_. Etain landed with a tiny poof of dust on the cold, stone floor.

* * *

When Etain came back to consciousness, she couldn't tell how much time had passed. _What a fantastic headache, _she thought to herself, going to touch her head before she realized her hands were gone. _So it wasn't a dream. Then where is…?_

A long, satisfied moan came from her bedroom. Memories flooded back into Etain's mind, and she shot up off the ground. _That whore. That homewrecker. _Her wings lifted her off the ground and she shot like a cannon fired into the awaiting bedroom.

She hadn't expected the sight that met her eyes. It wasn't a bound and gagged husband needing to be saved who waited for her in the bedroom, but a man who was participating in the activities very willingly. Etain's wings stopped short when she watched him kissing Roxa's exposed shoulder.

Though she was obviously enjoying herself, Roxa's mind wasn't as clouded by lust as the King's. She, for example, had noticed the angry humming noise entering the room and knew she had to act fast. She whispered a deathly lullaby,

"_By dark night's comet,  
by winter's frozen kiss.  
The wind will come collect you  
and you'll lose yourself in mist."_

At her words, a magical wind kicked up in the middle of the bedroom. Etain's mind drowned in panic as she felt herself being carried off towards an open window. She might have struggled against it to the death had she not overheard Jareth's voice mumbling into the woman's gathered dress, "I love it when you talk magic to me, _precious."_

Hearing her own name applied to the now triumphant whore was too much. Etain stopped struggling and allowed the wind to carry her- through the window, through the air, and into the night.

* * *

A/N: Hope you enjoyed! Our two lovers won't meet again for quite some time, so enjoy the moment while it lasts.


	4. and you'll lose yourself in mist

A/N: Welcome back! Thank you so much to those who've reviewed. Hope it continues to be to your liking!

* * *

The magical wind blew her out far beyond the borders of the Goblin Kingdom within a week. After a month, she'd passed through every kingdom she'd ever visited, and soon after that beyond every kingdom she'd ever heard of. By the end of the year, she'd reached the edge of the shore- the end of the Underground.

Panic welled up at the back of her fly throat; she'd never seen an ocean before, and wasn't quite sure what she'd meet out at sea. Legend has it that the Underground was isolated by mists on every side, and anyone who ventured out into the fog would be lost, wandering in circles forever. To Etain, the ocean looked like a death sentence.

She'd given up trying to contact Jareth through their mental link almost as soon as she'd left the castle. Something was blocked, like when too much wax makes it impossible to hear clearly. But as the wind carried her off above the first crashing wave of the ocean, she called out once again, desperately.

_Don't let me die out here on my own. _

* * *

Etain's magic had always been strong, fearfully so for a family of such limited magical means as her own. For a woman who had always been able to wish for something to make it appear, being tossed helplessly above water she couldn't tame was terrifying. Etain had figured her fly body was making it unable for her to access her usual magic, which required the use of her hands, but still she tried to reach out her six little legs to keep the waves at bay. Thankfully, the Underground seemed to take pity on the poor Fae-turned-fly. It sent a strong current of wind to bear Etain aloft, high above the waters that could have drowned her with nothing but a burst of spray. So powerful was the wind of the Underground that it kept her safe above the ocean for seven years, though Etain lost track far earlier.

Lost and lonely, her thoughts often drifted back to her parents in Cambria. They, like the wind, had kept her aloft many times throughout her childhood and young adulthood. When it came time for Etain to choose her path in life, she told her parents she wished to get married. This meant a lot of work for her parents, since matchmaking in the Underground was a near science. When folks lived as long as the Fae and marriages were unbreakable, partners were chosen for children very wisely; otherwise, the child might be miserable for centuries untold. Her parents needed arrange a suitable match for a woman who was not only their eldest daughter (which carried with it enough expectations of grandeur) but also a beautiful and powerful Fae. Few Fae in the Underground were able to match Etain in either beauty or magic alone, never mind both, and for a while her parents had deemed finding a man who possessed both equally impossible.

For a while Etain had entertained thoughts about her childhood friend, Mithir. He'd been like a brother to Etain: protecting her from bullies, teaching her to use magic, even making up silly dances with her.

When she suggested the possible match to her parents, they gently reasoned with her. Mithir and she were, first of all, very unequal in magical abilities. Fae couples were rarely happy if one could so easily manipulate the other with their magic. Mithir also had his heart set on becoming a regal advisor and loved studying law, two things that bored Etain to tears. What really made the decision for Etain was hearing her parents say Mithir wasn't a romantic. They knew how strongly Etain desired happiness on a fantasy level, and they knew he couldn't provide it. In tears, Etain had run to Mithir and asked him to refute their assessment, but he admitted its truth. She was crushed.

A full fifty years after her parents had begun to search for her match, the Goblin King decided to re-enter courtly life again at a royal masquerade. Apparently his parents, too, were having difficulty matching him up. High King Oberon had heard of Etain's beauty and might, and had suggested to his son that he might attend this ball in particular.

Etain remembered that night, especially the poorly constructed grandstand for that evening's orchestra. As it started falling towards the drunken crowd, Etain held it and the band members aloft using magic of labyrinthine complexity. Jareth told her later that he had decided on her in that moment, awestruck by her fierce power. The pair of parents spent weeks discussing the terms of the betrothal; families as unequal as the High King and the third best merchant in Cambria did not often join. Their mutual desire for the happiness and success of their children's marriages, however, forced them to put aside their differences of blood.

When her parents told Etain the betrothal was finalized, she asked only if he was a romantic. Her parents shared a strange look between them before answering.

"You might not see it initially," her mother had said, "but King Jareth has tremendous potential if you just give him the chance."

Etain nodded, perplexed, and went up to her room for the rest of the day. There, she re-read one of her favorite books, _The Man in the Maze. _Etain lost herself in the story of a woman who finds her true love while lost amid a full-sized maze. Etain knew she could never hope to be happy in a marriage with some random man she met in a maze, but still. She mourned the loss of such an adventurous and romantic story for her own life in favor of "potential." When she met Jareth properly at their engagement ball, she made a wish that he would somehow live up to her expectations.

Thoughts of that ball sent Etain the fly searching for a way to drown herself in the sea, however. She'd managed to spend the entirety of her time lost at sea avoiding this particular memory, but now it crashed into her mind louder than the crashing waves. It was that night she'd been introduced to Sweetness, Jareth's then-concubine. He'd promised that he would be true to her after the wedding, but seemed to feel no guilt for "having his fun" beforehand. Obviously, Etain thought, he'd never intended to keep that promise, if he couldn't spend a single month being married before she found him lying with Roxa. What use was it pining away for her husband when he wasn't wasting a thought on her? The wind lulled, and she saw her chance to escape. She put all her strength into diving downward toward the deep, black waters.

But she never touched the surface. Just before she could, a sleek head popped to the surface and held her above the water line.

"Your majesty!" the creature barked, "Don't worry, I won't let you drown, oh no!"

Etain searched for a way to reach the creature's mind, but it was so animalistic she couldn't communicate with it. She tried to jump off its head into the water to get away.

A flipper caught her this time. "Oh no, your majesty! Don't do that! You'll get all wet and die! It's a good thing the King sent me here to watch for you, oh yes."

The King? Etain spun around and fluttered her golden wings. Could he have found her, finally?

"That's just what I said," the creature prattled on in that strange, barking way, "I said 'Your highness, I won't let the strange Queen-fly get hurt even if I die in the process, oh yes.' King of the Selkie trusts me you see, oh yes."

Etain's heart sank. The selkie king. Their kind was beyond even the reach of history, and had lost themselves in the books of mythology and legend. There was no way their King had any contact with her own back at the Castle beyond the Goblin City.

Etain could have buzzed back up to the safety of the Underground wind current and be rid of the bothersome creature. But after so many months, years, and decades, (could it have been centuries at this point?) hearing the voice of another rational being, even if that being was an annoying selkie, was worth remaining on its flipper.

It wasn't long before she was grateful she did. Being at sea level with her new seal-man friend meant she had a different perspective. She could see land.

* * *

A/N: And there you have it! Questions? Comments? Challenge me to a duel? Lemme know what you think!


	5. The Man in the Maze

Chapter Five- The Man in the Maze

Jareth kicked another goblin out the open window, though its yelp of surprise brought him no pleasure. Somehow, the dull-witted hoard had moved from the city into the castle during his period of…absent-mindedness. They were running around with chickens and barrels of goblin ale, completely unaware that their King had fully returned to his faculties. And that he was furious. And that he wanted them out.

Since Jareth had come to his senses, he'd done little but confiscate ale, banish goblins to the bog, and trap chickens in one of his hundred oubliettes. He'd already forgotten which one he'd dropped Roxa in, but he hoped that he'd given her some clucking companionship. The feathered creatures should prove stimulating companions for a woman with a mind like hers.

To be fair, Jareth was angrier at himself than at his goblins or their chickens. He'd been mind-wiped by this wisp of a Fae woman, and a concubine no less. He regretted every minute he'd spent teaching her advanced magic in those months before he and Etain wed. He ground his teeth at the memory of his entrapment, poking holes through each moment when he could have resisted her.

_ "And you, my cheating love," Roxa said to Jareth in the hallway, "will no longer remember this… _unfaithfulness_ to me. From now on, you'll be my charming, idiot lover once more, and the Queen will be the stuff of legend." She twisted her wrist out from his grasp and touched the side of his head, whispering something. _

_Jareth shook his head half a dozen times, feeling like he had to shake off a bad dream. When his eyes focused again, there was only Roxa before him- lovely, perfect Roxa. _

_"That's a good boy," she cooed. "Now were you planning on spending the night in this dark corridor, dearest? Or did you have some more… _interesting_ ideas in mind?"_

_Jareth's eyes darkened, dumb with lust. He wordlessly led her into Etain's own bedroom, not even bothering to shut the door behind him. _

Stupid, stupid Jareth. He kicked himself in the absence of a nearby chicken.

"None of that, your majesty," Mithir said. He'd somehow come up behind the King while he was lost in the memory.

"I'll have plenty of that, Mithir," Jareth said, snapping. "I bloody well deserve it. Leaving you to the kingdom by yourself? It's a wonder you're not kicking me too." He turned to the few goblins still stupid enough to populate the throne room and roared. "GET OUT!"

Mithir waited until the last goblin had escaped their sovereign's wrath before speaking. "It's good to have you back, your highness. I'm glad you were able to fight the enchantment off yourself, and so quickly. I wasn't looking forward to attempting a mind-wipe of my own with my limited magic."

Jareth waved his hand in the air, brushing aside the compliment. He intended to wallow in his self-torment a bit longer. He paced the length of the throne room. "It shouldn't have happened in the first place. My carelessness put the safety of the entire kingdom at risk. And worse, I lost my Queen." _My queen… _

_No_, he thought, slamming a mental wall against thoughts of her. Anger was a much easier emotion to deal with. But he couldn't take it out on his adviser the way he had on his goblins. Mithir had been loyal since he'd been brought to the Goblin Kingdom a few decades before Etain. _Etain…_ He conjured a crystal and threw it against the wall, letting the crash echo around him as shards fell with tinkling sounds to the floor.

Mithir was silent as he looked at the ground, pretending to scuff off a mark from his shoe. Jareth studied the dark-haired fae. He knew his adviser must blame him tremendously for Etain's disappearance. They had always been close. Once Jareth had cast off the spell, he realized that for _months_ he'd watched Mithir wander aimlessly around the Queen's garden, trying to drink in whatever could be salvaged of her presence there.

Watching Mithir wallow was the impetus Jareth needed to see how fruitless his own pity party was. Just like that, the King was all business once again. He clicked his boots together, drawing his adviser's attention. "I intend to do something about it, Mithir. I'd know if Etain were dead. My connection with her is still intact, though it's like there's a great cloud that covers over her end."

Mithir sighed with relief. "That's wonderful to hear, my lord. If Queen Etain is alive, then surely the only problem is finding her?"

The King nodded, once. "Will you join me in my study? I can't help feeling as though I've read something in a book once that spoke of a missing Queen."

"Would this be a history? A myth? Prophecy? I'll have all the books brought down from the library of the High King if you thought it would help."

"Thank you, but no. I can picture the portion of the page this story came from, a page that I can't help but feel is in my own castle. Eventually we'll find it if we look hard enough. But I can't answer to the genre of this story. We'll just have to read them all. If you'd ask the librarian…" the King trailed off and a look of panic crossed his face.

"My Lord?" Mithir hesitated. Could this be some remnant of the enchantment?

The King grabbed his adviser by the shoulders. "Tell me the horde hasn't found the library yet. I'll never be able to forgive myself if those beasts have torn it to shreds."

Mithir shrugged the King off. "You'd think you cared more for your books than your wife, my Lord." As soon as the words were out, though, Mithir realized his mistake. The King eyed him dangerously.

"You go too far, Mithir. I'm perfectly aware of the breath and well-being of my wife, just not her whereabouts. My books are another matter, and represent thousands of years of study."

Mithir looked down, properly shamed. "My apologies, your highness. Of course you're right. And to answer your question, no. The city goblins have not found your library. I've set a guard over the entrance night and day."

"And you didn't see fit to give the same treatment to the throne room, for some reason?" The King flicked a brown and tan speckled feather from his shoulder.

Mithir shifted his weight from one foot to the next. "I've never had to deal directly with goblin horde, my lord. I decided to try bribery first. I offered the throne room in place of your personal quarters, which they wanted very much to redecorate themselves."

The King blanched, then clapped his hand on his adviser's shoulders. "Well decided. Tell me everything else of your dealings with the city goblins. It seems as though they won't be vacating the castle any time soon."

* * *

It had been three quarters of a century before they finally found the passage that had lodged itself deep in Jareth's mind.

"I GOT IT!" the King had shrieked on that day. "Oh get over here, Mithir, this is it!"

The two fae men had poured over the short passage which had been tucked away in a benign story of riddles.

_The queen of the goblins shall become a human, _

_and the king will search among children. _

_He'll lose himself to find his queen, _

_and he'll find her among the children._

"Are you sure?" Mithir questioned. "It says nothing about a missing queen, only one that's been transformed. It doesn't even say anything about becoming a fly."

The King looked at the passage again. "It describes a King searching for someone lost, does it not?"

"Yes, but-"

"And are not riddles and prophecies notorious for leaving out certain bits of information?"

"I suppose-"

"And does it not offer us the first solution to our problem that we've seen in all these years of searching?" The King had stood at this point, a crystal at the ready if his adviser still continued to defy him.

Mithir nodded with a slump of his shoulders, wrapping up his doubts with a deep bow. He was the King's humble, yes-man adviser, though the King could tell it grated on him. "As you say, my lord. Riddles leave out bits and pieces. If you say this is it, it is." The King nodded, appeased, and so Mithir changed the subject. "Where are you going to search first, my lord? Aboveground is a big place, I've heard, and there have to be hundreds of human children there."

"Try millions," the King muttered. His kingdom was unfortunately situated in one of the veil's thinnest places Underground, which meant he often had to deal with lost humans who wandered into his realm. Dealing with the repulsive creatures had given him a general knowledge of the Aboveground, though he'd only ventured there on the few occasions when it was absolutely necessary.

"I'm not planning on wandering around, breathing their polluted excuse for air, and casually loitering at their child care facilities. No, if Etain becomes a child, she'll come to _me._"

Mithir looked at the King who'd begun pacing the length of the study. He tentatively suggested an alternative, "But the passage doesn't say she'll actually _be_ a child, right? It just says the King will _find_ her among them."

The King considered that for a moment, but tossed the idea aside. "It wouldn't make sense for her to be hiding around children without actually being one. A child she'll be."

Mithir gave up. "Well, ok then. Children get lost often, what with their peanut sized brains and oblivious parents. It shouldn't be hard to find a way to lure them Underground, like with candy or something."

The King was struck with a view of a potential future: his kingdom overrun with sugar-high children, outnumbering even the goblins. The Aboveground rulers searching for the missing children and finding his kingdom. War with the humans. That last bit in particular had never gone well for his people, and the King suppressed a shiver of foreboding.

"No, there has to be a way to set a more…selective trap. Something Etain would like or know about, but few other children would."

"I see," said Mithir, whose head whipped around to the gnarled, old clock on the wall when it chimed the 13 o'clock hour. He perked up. "Sire? You told me last week that I could leave early today. My betrothed and I are scheduled to meet with my parents about a dowry."

The King looked up, confused. "Your betrothed?"

"Yes, my lord. I've told you about her a dozen times. Sorcha? Of the Elven kingdom?"

"Oh right, of course," the King said, burying his nose back in the book without any memory of the woman whatsoever. "Yes, of course you may meet with her. The hardest part of this whole search starts now, after all."

Mithir dug his heels into the plush rug. The King was sure he understood the attempt at a guilt trip, but he wouldn't allow it. "I'll be back in two days time, sire. And I'll return with a list of possible 'selective' traps, if you wish."

"No, no, enjoy your woman and your two days. I'll come up with the bait and trap myself. I'm nothing if not generous."

The adviser sighed. "You are indeed, my lord. If you're sure then, I'll be off."

The King looked up from his book again. So much for a loyal adviser, he thought, though he was happy to finally put to rest any doubts about the designs Mithir had on his own wife. "Off with you, man. I'll fend for myself."

When the door to the study closed behind Mithir, Jareth summoned a crystal and teleported himself to the Queen's chambers. He didn't often go in here anymore, though he had scrubbed away any hint of Roxa's presence with his own hands.

He tread lightly, not willing to disturb anything his Queen had placed purposefully. _If she even remembered where things had been at all, _he thought bitterly to himself. How long was finding a human child going to take? He picked up a blanket, a miniature portrait of her family, a hair tie. How was he supposed to use anything familiar of hers to draw her back to him?

He'd almost given up searching through Etain's possessions when his eyes scanned over a book that had been left upside down on her window seat, clearly to mark a page. Jareth picked up the book with the words _The Man in the Maze_ printed in tiny, gold lettering on the front. He peered at the open page.

A love story, was it? He thought as his eyes scanned. He hadn't known his Queen to be a romantic. Perhaps the book was really about strategy and mind games and quick thinking. That sounded more like the Etain he knew. That gave him an idea. He walked to the window that looked out over the Goblin Kingdom and imagined what his castle would look like with a large maze surrounding it. Twists and turns, dead ends and endless loops, dangers untold and hardships unnumbered. Well, no, he thought, that wouldn't be just a simple maze. It'd be more like…

A labyrinth.

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A/N: I loved writing this chapter. Jareth felt more in-character, goblins were sent to the bog, and we're one step closer to getting Etain/Sarah back! I propose a foreshadow haiku to my lovely readers:

Should dangers untold  
meed with hardships unnumbered,  
A babe will be born.

(And that, my friends, is why I stick with prose. Anywho, review away!)


	6. New York, New York

A/N: I don't own anything recognizable, though I doubt Mr. Henson would recognize much of this chapter. In any case, enjoy!

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It hadn't been hard to convince the selkie to bring Etain towards the shore. The creature seemed just as enthralled with the thousand twinkling lights coming from the land and it was quickly swimming besides large ships in the harbor. Etain had read about harbors in history books. During certain droughts of magic when teleportation wasn't feasible, merchants would send tradable goods down rivers and across lakes, all ending up near a water city where the goods would be processed and sold. This didn't look like the harbors of her imagination, however. There were no floating logs or barges of precious gems, only these large, loud, belching boats. Etain couldn't even see who was operating the floating beasts, as their decks were stories above her head at sea level.

It wasn't long before she got a good look, however. With all the chaos in the harbor, the selkie was nearly run over with a small motor twice. He looked longingly back at the sea.

"I thinks I've done mine duty to you, your highness. You'll be safe here if you just gets yourself on a boat or something, oh yes. Or better, get away from the water and go over to the land. Oh yes, that's a much better idea, oh yes."

Etain launched herself into the air and flew a half dozen circles around his head, letting the sweet humming sound of her flight be her thank you. When she finished, the selkie looked almost in a trance, but it soon barked out its acceptance and dipped back into the dark water.

The last of the Underground wind carried her up and away from the harbor and over the land, and she floated on the foul-smelling air that clung to the city. A large, green woman greeted her near the edge of the harbor, but for some reason Etain could find no way into the woman's mind. _Odd_, Etain thought to herself,_ it's almost as if the woman was completely lifeless._

The city itself was anything but. When the wind finally gave out and left Etain to fly on her own power, she decided to dip low enough to observe the inhabitants of the city. What she found amazed and bewildered her. The people here lived in such crowded spaces! There were hundreds of them all packed together, living in buildings she couldn't imagine the height of. Their garbage tangled in the few trees she saw, making it look as if they bore fruit of plastic and cardboard. Never before had she seen anyone, not even goblins, living with such little room to breathe and move. And the people themselves! When she crossed in front of their faces to get a good look, she saw no angularity to their bones, no pointed teeth or ears, no calculating gleams in their eyes. In fact, everyone she saw seemed either entranced or simply numb. It wasn't until she saw an infant child, so reminiscent of a changeling she once saw, that she recognized them.

_Humans!_

She was Above, she realized with a fluttering panic. Somehow, the mist had cleared and brought her Aboveground, right into the thick of a human city. She flew above the sparse treetops into the sinking twilight, trying to calm down.

_What would Jareth do?_ She thought miserably. He wasn't fond of humans, and he'd know how to transverse through the veil back to the Underground. Would there be any sort of sign in this world, some symbol that would point her back home? A glowing portal or a misty curtain of some kind? Etain figured it was a good enough place to start, and so she let her wings carry her around the city, looking high and low for any sort of hint of magic.

It was late at night before she decided to give up for the night. She knew that her strength was waning and she'd have to conserve her energy if she wanted to search in the daylight tomorrow. She came to rest on top of a metal can resting against a building, out of the way of the main paths the humans traveled. She closed her multi-faceted eyes and tried to sleep.

It wasn't long after she'd closed her eyes that she heard the music. At least, she thought it was music. The noise bore no similarity to the tinkling, lilting melodies from Underground, but she could detect the varied notes and the different instruments, along with one singularly beautiful voice.

She fluttered around lazily, trying to find the source. It was with great surprise that she discovered a small opening at the bottom of the street, light pouring out onto the sidewalk. She crept to the edge of the light and could see dozens of humans below the ground, dancing and singing in an underground room. The beautiful voice came from a human woman with rich, dark hair that curled and twisted down to her waist. She was wearing a long, shimmering dress that caught the light and seemed to bend it towards herself. Everyone in the room was looking at her in awe, and Etain could tell the other dancers and singers were as much under her spell as Etain herself.

It surprised the fae queen that humans could be so captivating. Stories about them featured little more than descriptions of their brutality and vulgarity. Never had she heard humans could be beautiful, or have voices as clear and shining as a singer at an Underground opera. Etain tried to catch the tune in her mind as she crept closer to the edge of the window.

Alas! A passing car whizzed by at the least opportune moment, and Etain was caught in the trailing breeze. The wind gust sent the little golden fly swirling out of control, straight into the underground room and into the dancing chaos. She struggled against the wind as it threatened to land her on the buffed wood of the dance floor, full of pulsing, kicking feet that were completely unaware of the danger they posed. She beat her wings harder and faster than she knew she could, and was at the edge of the group before someone finally made contact. A well-manicured foot in six-inch heels kicked Etain backwards through the air, where she made a graceful arch over the group, landing with a _plop _in someone's wine glass. Her wings soaked through instantly, and it was only the frantic paddling of her six legs that kept her from drowning in the dark, rich liquid.

_NO! _Etain roared in her mind, kicking harder and harder to reach the edge of the glass where maybe she could climb out. _I'm NOT about to die in a bloody glass after I'll I've been through. I'll let Jareth crown me King of the Bog before I let that happen. _

Thanks to either sheer, dumb luck or Etain's paddling, she did manage to reach the edge of the glass without drowning. It was then that the wine rocked over the edge like a tsunami, and Etain was left swirling in the middle again. With horror, she saw from a thousand angles a pair of painted red lips closing in on the glass, and swigs of the liquid disappearing down her throat. The last thing Etain saw before being gulped down was the wide, drunken eyes of a woman, noticing the little fly too late.

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A/N: Hypotheses? Predictions? Rotten tomatoes? Let me have it! :)


	7. The First Summons

A/N: Thanks to all the new readers! You keep me focused on writing and not giving up. Enjoy the newest chapter. Well, perhaps enjoy is a poor choice of words, considering it gets a little dark here. And perhaps I should add some sort of trigger warning for child abuse and drug use? There isn't anything too graphic, but it's there, and the rating has been upped to T accordingly.

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Jareth didn't so much hear the summons as feel it.

It made sense, as strange as the sensation was. He had worked for the last Underground decade to create the labyrinth, cleaving bits and pieces of his own soul to give life to the sprawling mess of twists and turns. He'd learned to manipulate every inch of the labyrinth with a simple desire, coax it into action with less than a thought. It responded to his every touch and whim, and he had never been more proud of something he'd created. So when he'd finally received a summons for a wished-away child Above, he was tingling along with the labyrinth. They were ready for a test drive.

Jareth winked a goodbye to Mithir, who he'd been working with in the highest tower of the castle, and Mithir called out his wish of luck. Time and space cramped and twined around the Goblin King as he followed the summons through the veil between worlds and towards to his destination.

He'd sent the goblin horde on ahead. They'd been easily convinced years ago when he offered the trade: help him steal human children and create chaos, and in exchange he'd have a tidy, goblin-free castle. When the hoard heard the summons, he'd heard the exuberant shriek go up in the city from his spot in the highest tower. He grinned wickedly at the sound; they were ready.

When he reached his destination, he gagged at the stench. His display of power and glitter was wasted in the pitch-darkness; he had to conjure an illuminating crystal to barely see the foolish human who'd wished herself into his power. There, on a mattress on the floor, lay a woman in her mid-thirties with disheveled hair and no pants on. She stared at the mysterious visitor with glassed-over eyes, and Jareth noticed the needles strewn about and the dozens of bruises on her arms. He scanned the room in a panic, praying his Etain hadn't been left in such conditions as these, but he found only a small boy sucking his thumb in a corner. The goblins had already found him and were playing a game of poke-the-baby, not that the child cared. He stared straight ahead.

Jareth was simultaneously disappointed that this summons wasn't for Etain, but he was thoroughly relieved she hadn't been subject to such conditions. He cleared his throat and started to recite the words he'd penned so carefully.

"Give him to me."

The woman stared at him without any recognition crossing her face.

The Goblin King tried again. "The boy. You wished him away to me. Hand him over."

"Uhhhhh." She still didn't seem to possess any understanding, and her eyes started looking all over the room.

"Woman!" he snapped his cape with a bout of blustery magic, trying to regain her attention. "I am the Goblin King! I demand that you let me take your child!"

The woman remained silent, but this time she nodded faintly in the direction of the boy before passing out on the mattress.

Jareth wasn't sure where to go from here. He and Mithir had drawn up the magical rules for their labyrinth game- when someone wished away a child, they must run the labyrinth. If, after 13 hours, they made it to the castle, the child would be returned to the wisher. If not, the wisher would be sent home empty-handed. They didn't make it fair though, and they purposefully made it impossible to win. Neither wanted to risk Etain's escape.

He waved his hand and made all the goblins disappear with the boy. Whatever happened with the mother, the child was his.

Now looking at the woman in the silent crack house, Jareth could tell she'd do nothing but sit outside the gate the entire 13 hours. He really had no desire to sit on his throne, bored brainless, and watch her the whole time. In a split second, Jareth changed the rules. He brought down a bolt of lightning with a terrific crash of thunder to wake the woman, and then he conjured a crystal.

"I've brought you a gift," he whispered dangerously, "If you turn it this way, it will show you your dreams."

He could see the woman's eyes light up lightning fast as the crystal danced on his wrists and fingertips. He had to force back the bile that rose in his throat. "If you want it, then I get to keep the child. Forever." The woman still saw nothing but the glass bauble, and reached for it. Jareth pulled his hand away, amazed by her lack of compassion. "Damn it woman! We're talking about your son! Would you really let a perfect stranger take him for nothing more than the promise of a dream?"

The woman pouted, holding out her hand. So Jareth, ever generous, concentrated on the crystal in front of him. He was the Master of Dreams, and as he looked deep within her, he could see her dreams were full of nothing but drugged bliss. Her dream would kill her within a week. Though he knew, he still gave her the crystal she so wanted. _Foolish woman_, he cursed as he tossed the crystal in the air and watched her scramble on the filthy carpet for where it landed. He pulled his cape close around him and thought of home, letting his magic pull him back to the throne room.

The goblins were in uproar. Scores of them filled every level of the room, hooting and hollering at the sickly child. The boy's age was hard to determine given his malnourished look, and didn't react at all to the goblins. He simply wrapped his arms around his folded knees and rocked himself gently. The boy wasn't wearing anything but a clearly soiled diaper and a patchwork of black and blue bruises. The state of the boy's skin, now visible in the bright light of the Underground morning, finally made the Goblin King snap.

"Out, all of you!" he ordered the goblin hoard, kicking a few out the window for effect. "You've had your fun, now back to the city with you. Leave the boy to me."

The throne room drained quickly, and moments later it was only the King, the boy, and a few stray black chickens. The boy looked up at the sudden silence, and seeing a towering man in black armor, began to cry. Jareth couldn't bear the tiny, pitiful sound and summoned Mithir to his side.

"Take care of this," the King said when Mithir appeared. He conjured a blanket and bottle for the babe and shoved them at his advisor. "Don't allow anyone to bother me 'til the morrow."

"As you wish, my lord," Mithir said, taking the items and watching his king leap out the balcony window and transform into his avian form mid-air.

Mithir crouched down to eye-level with the child and gave him a small, sad smile. The boy wailed louder. Mithir sighed a heartsick sigh and offered the child the bottle. The boy took it greedily, gulping down the warm liquid as fast as he could. Having solved the screaming part of the problem, Mithir scooped the boy up in his arms, rubbing small circles on his back.

"I don't know who wished you away, little man-child, but I'm sorry for you." The boy, who had finished the bottle ravenously, nodded into the crook of Mithir's shoulder and wiggled around as he tried to get comfortable. On a hunch, the King's advisor thought of the Escher room. When Etain was little, he'd always been able to get her to rest by climbing flights of stairs. So Mithir tried it, slowly walking the boy up and down until the child was soundly lulled to sleep.

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A/N: Wow. That was hard to stomach while writing.

In lighter, brighter news, we FINALLY get to meet Sarah next chapter! *blows party blower* Who's excited?


	8. Nine months later

A/N: You guys are so sweet! Thanks for all the kind reviews. As a reward, here's the next chapter a couple days early. :)

* * *

Nine human months later, Sarah was born.

Her mother, the woman who'd swallowed a weird-looking fly at that drunken party so long ago, turned out to be one of the most highly sought-after Broadway actresses: Ms. Linda Mendez. When she found out she was pregnant, she scheduled the abortion immediately. She was too busy to think about having a kid now, and especially without a steady guy in the picture. But then she was offered a part in a six-month long musical tour of Great Britain playing a pregnant divorcee. She figured it just fit. Throughout rehearsals, interviews, and performances to adoring crowds, she thought about what it'd be like to be a mom. There would d be baby pictures, mother-daughter dances, hair braiding and nail polish and makeovers, everything she never had growing up. Her maternal fantasies were almost enough to make her give up her dreams of a Tony award. Almost.

As soon as she had the baby in New York, she drove up to Connecticut. There was a lawyer guy she'd been dating about nine months ago. She had heard stories about what foster care was like for children, and she wasn't about to subject her little girl to that. Lawyers were respectable, responsible people, at least that's what she told herself as she took the highway exit for a little town outside Hartford. The guy had been a downright sweetheart, too.

It was a dark, August night, and baby Sarah had slept the entire way there. It was only when Linda had parked the car that Sarah started crying and Linda got spooked. The plan had been to talk to Bobby and get him to take the girl after a little guilt tripping and maybe a few white lies, all while reminding him how much she loved Sarah. The piercing cry in the night scrambled her brain. She scratched a note on a piece of her stationary that was crumpled at the bottom of her purse, got the baby out and onto the doorstep, and slammed on the gas before the guy could even recognize the beautiful woman driving away.

Robert Williams hated when the teenaged boys next door played 'ding-dong ditch.' He'd threatened to sue them the next time it happened, and had started preemptively yelling out threats into the night when he saw the car with orange, New York plates squealing away. The driver's face was illuminated for only an instant by the streetlight, so he couldn't quite make out her features, though they seemed familiar. And then there was the wailing child in a car seat on his stoop.

_What was this, some fairy tale? _he thought, tugging at his hair in frustration and making it stand up straight. There was a note stuck partially underneath the baby's blanket and he pulled it out. It read,

**She's yours, Bobby hunny. I'm sorry I couldn't be the mother she needed. You'll be able to give little Sarah Williams a better life than I ever could. **

**Love, Linda **

_I'm a dad? _Robert thought, his hand blindly groping for the door frame to brace himself against. The lawyer part of his brain immediately supplied him with logic and skepticism and methods to sue the pants of bloody Linda Mendez. The lonely part of Robert's brain, however, slapped the lawyer part upside the head until it rested its case. A little girl.

Robert looked at the child with fresh eyes. She certainly had a full head of dark hair, just like he and all his siblings had when they were born. And her face, contorted though it was in angry cries, had the same oval shape. He picked up the swaddled bundle from the car seat and held her ever so gently, breathing in that soft baby smell. Sarah stopped crying and blinked up at the man holding her.

"Hey baby," he whispered as he rocked, afraid that the slightest noise might set her crying again, "this is your Daddy, I guess."

In the morning, he'd frantically buy out half of the Babies 'R' Us and take out all the parenting books in the local library. He'd rush to the Town Hall and pull a few favors to have a local birth certificate written up. He'd schedule appointments with pediatricians and baby room decorators and prospective nannies before dinnertime. He'd call his mother to tell her the news and hang up on her when she wasn't immediately supportive. He'd look at the little girl sleeping in a make-shift crib designed from couch cushions and a towel and his heart would break all over again for the girl whose mother didn't want her.

But for now, Robert just stood there in the dining room, marveling and rocking.

* * *

Far away, Jareth nearly fell out of his bedroom window where he'd been sitting on the ledge, brooding into the night. Something had changed. He checked himself over with shaking hands, reached out with his mind to search his land and labyrinth, and listened very closely. It was when he looked deep within himself that he found a tiny spot glowing with hope. This spot that had been dark for so long, locked so far away for fear of painful memories.

Now it glowed. Jareth chased the glow down the mental link, following its twists and turns and growing more and more excited to reach the destination. This link had been dark for over a century now, blocked completely from her side. When he finally came to the end, however, he wasn't sure what he was sensing.

Etain was alive, without question. Of that, he'd always been sure. But now it didn't feel the same as it had previously. It was more alive, less clouded over and no longer dark. But instead of a high speed highway of information, it was thick and slow, like it was clogged somehow. He tested out call after call to her without response.

Finally, Jareth became exasperated and summoned a crystal. These, too, had been dark and without information since their fateful parting, but now shone bright and clear. Jareth, frantically searching the image within, held the crystal so tightly he almost broke it. And then he found her. There, in the center of a dark room, was a baby girl in a young man's arms, wearing a pink little onesie and sucking her thumb.

Jareth's body, unused to such intense feelings of joy, jumped out the window. His panic at the unexpected reaction lasted only seconds, though, and he transformed in mid-air. The labyrinth below had seen the cause for celebration and coughed up showers of glitter that made the whole land dance with the reflection of moonlight. City goblins, sniffing out a party like a wolf sniffs its prey, opened a few kegs of goblin ale and began the feast. All over the Underworld, the ground itself rippled in satisfaction.

_The queen of the goblins had become a girl_, and now the King had to bring her back.

* * *

A/N: I don't write super fluff stuff, but even I was wishing for a little baby to hang around with while writing this. Hope you enjoyed, but R&amp;R regardless! I like hearing whatever you guys thought of my story, be it constructive criticism or OMG NEXT CHAPTER NOW.

Speaking of 'next chapter now,' I've reached the end of my storehouse of chapters, and will have to start writing a little more regularly to keep these chapters coming once a week. So bear with me if I'm a little late in the next one. But I will finish! I have it all planned out and just have to do the actual writing bits. As our favorite knight says, "I can conquer this mountain!"


	9. Patience

By nature, Jareth was a patient man. Most Fae were, as the eternity that stretched out before them required many things to be played out in the long run, rather than decided in impulsive spurts. Jareth had calmly waited to be given his kingdom, waited while he tamed his subjects, waited to marry the perfect bride, waited waited waited. But bog it all, Jareth wasn't about to wait for another century until Etain was back in his arms. He needed to speed things up.

He watched her through his crystals obsessively. He watched the silent little clips of the Etain-child eating her first solid foods, playing with her toys, dancing around in the lush grass with her father. He watched in a panic whenever she scraped her knee or started to run into traffic. After all, the prophecy had said that she'd become a girl, but not that she would necessarily come home. Humans were vulnerable and easily killed, and he wanted nothing more than to scoop her up and keep her safe. But he couldn't, not yet.

While he watched and waited, he built up his strength Aboveground by answering summon after summon, filling the Underground with wished-away children. They had started as little more than a trickle when he first erected the Labyrinth, but it rose to a steady stream soon after Etain appeared in the human world. Jareth suspected her magic was having some unseen effect on the magical balance Above. The more frequently he was called to retrieve a child from Above, the stronger his magic became. He'd always had some ability to pierce the veil and travel among humans, at least at certain times of the year, but soon he was able to wield more and more of his power Above.

Finally, when Etain was about four or five years old, Jareth sensed that he could probably make the journey Above without a summon or during a season with a particularly thin veil, like the mortal's Halloween. He wanted to prepare immediately.

"Sire, I must advise against this strongly," Mithir said, pacing in front of the King's dressing room.

"I'm going." The King replied from behind the partition.

"You won't be able to use anything but your avian form. Anything else would be too taxing."

"I'm going."

"Your majesty! What are you even planning on _doing_ up there? You know you can't just take her. She needs to make a wish to return. What can you _possibly _hope to accomplish except wearing yourself out if you can't even talk to her?"

The King strode out from behind the partition, wearing his finest black armor and cape, the one with the golden, half-moon, Goblin insignia. This time, he didn't bother refuting Mithir. He let his cape snap in the wind and walked right past him towards the open window.

"She won't even see how you're dressed," Mithir muttered to himself. He gave a sigh as he leaned against a column, watching.

The sun was setting on the Underground, casting a long shadow on the ground where the King stood. He took a final, deep breath and let his magic surround and transform him. He concentrated very hard on a park where he so often seen Etain-the-human playing, then he closed his eyes and disappeared.

The first thing he noticed was the Aboveground wind, cold against his plumage. Jareth ruffled his feathers to warm up, waiting for the rest of his senses to return. When he transported himself through a summons, he could arrive with full faculties and magic, not to mention his fae form, but doing it this way was apparently a bit slower. His sense of sight came next, and the first thing they focused on amid the fuzziness of the world was a plastic pink ball, the type many of his wished-away children played with. It was bouncing downhill towards a lake in the middle of the park, and there- his breath caught- was the little Etain-child running down the hill after it.

He started to panic before his sense of hearing came back, and he heard a male voice from the top of the hill call, "Sarah, slow down! You'll fall in the water!" The Etain-child immediately stopped and turned around to look at her father, pointing and giggling through her fingers.

Jareth cocked his head to the side, surprised. For some reason, it hadn't occurred to Jareth that his bride would have a human name here. That little piece always slipped out of his imagined meetings. He didn't mind the name though, and he let it roll around his mind for a while. _Sarah._

A car pulled up around the corner, and the man at the top of the hill was distracted for a moment. "Sarah," he called down again, "Karen is here. I'm going to help her with her picnic basket, so you wait right there. Don't go near that water, ok?"

"Ok, Daddy!" she called back in her high-pitched voice that held just a hint of a lisp. But as soon as her father had turned his back to Sarah and towards the woman in the car, she tip-toed down the hill towards the ball where it floated gently on top of the water.

_She's so precious, _Jareth thought, taking in the twists and waves of her long brown hair, her pink ruffly dress, her tiny bare feet. _And yet she's so very human. Ignoring the commands of her father over a silly toy, and putting herself in danger in the process. _Just then, Sarah was on her hands and knees at the water's edge, reaching out with a stick to try and retrieve the ball.

Jareth flew down from his perch and landed very close to Sarah, hoping to distract her from the ball. Sarah yelped, surprised by the bird roughly half her size. But when the bird didn't try and bite or 'caw' at her, her fear gave way to curiosity.

"Hello, Mr. Bird," she said, standing in front of the owl, "you're very pretty. May I pet you?" And, without hesitation, Sarah reached out her lake-soaked hands to grab a handful of Jareth's head. The pain pulled at his skull and his gorgeous tawny feathers began to snap off in her grasp. He almost squawked, but he held it in, terrified of doing something to scare her off. So instead, Jareth silently gritted his beak and tried to break her grasp by flapping his wings.

Worse idea. While Sarah did let go of his feathers immediately, she then fell on her rear and began to cry.

"Bad bird!" She said, slapping him on the beak, "I don't like you anymore." She turned around and started walking towards the hill.

Jareth panicked, _No! She can't leave now. Think. What makes little girls stay?_ The animal half of his brain suggested rolling over and showing his belly, but the royal half snarled at even the thought of showing weakness. _What she needs_, he decided,_ is a gift_.

Jareth the owl hooted softly at the girl to regain her attention, and then rolled a crystal towards her. This ball, unlike her plastic pink one, could roll _uphill. _She chased it up, up, up, laughing as it avoided rocks and trees like it had a mind of its own. When it plopped on top of the blanket her father had laid out earlier, it turned into something very much not a crystal. Where it had been, there was a small stuffed animal unlike any Sarah had ever seen. It was dirty brown in color with a wide, child-like face. It wore plastic armor on its shoulders and chest, and had a thick tail that curved out and upwards. On its head, there was a spiky helmet, lopsided over its left eye.

"Gob-win!" Sarah shouted happily, and hugged the toy to her chest.

Jareth stared. How had she known that? Were there goblins on television nowadays, or in the movies? No, he'd been very careful- goblins were fearsome and terrifying, he made sure everyone knew that. No one who didn't know better would ever mistake this cute (if disgusting) creature as a goblin.

That meant she had memories. Jareth internally smiled a slow, predatory smile. It was only a matter of time, now.

* * *

From that day on, Jareth threw all of his energy into reordering time and visiting Aboveground. He'd jump ahead a few months or a year pay Sarah a visit, and then do it again. Visit after visit, he'd bring her a gift of his creation, always based on a creature or place in the Underground. One time it was the Escher room, another time it was a plush Firey. When she was about twelve, he brought her a red, leather-bound book, _Labyrinth. _

"Any day now," he promised Mithir after that particular gift, "she's going to let it slip and wish someone away."

"Or someone will wish her away," Mithir added. He'd accompanied the King on one of his visits and laughed at how stubborn and determined his old friend was

now in her new life. He remembered how long it had taken her parents to teach her respect and politeness, and how easily she'd forget both of those skills if it suited her. He wouldn't be surprised if her poor single parent got fed up one of these days and repeated those fateful words from her favorite little play.

When Sarah was fifteen, Jareth lost patience. Even with the reordering of time, he'd waited far too long already. The next time a child was wished away, he brought it to the Williams' residence instead of back Underground. He left a note on the babe's blanket, asking for adoption, and left. Surely, the annoyance of a baby brother after fifteen years of being an only child would be too tempting for Sarah. She was guaranteed to make a wish.

Only a week later, that's exactly what she did.

* * *

A/N: Rate and review, if you liked! (Or if you didn't. Constructive criticism is an acceptable form of currency here.)


	10. The After-Party

A/N: Sorry it's a bit late! As a reward, we FINALLY get to have a chapter from Sarah's POV, real and proper. Enjoy!

* * *

Sarah woke up to a huge mess in her bedroom. She'd fallen asleep on the ground, the half-finished game of Scrabble she'd started with Sir Didymus still sitting out in front of her. Every surface in the room was covered in a layer of what looked like glitter, and there was a pool of confetti on her rug from where the fireys had sat on a box of champagne poppers. She rolled on her back and sighed happily. It had been the best party she'd ever had, and certainly the most well attended. Never before had she been around people that didn't seem to shrink from her or avoid her at every turn. Hoggle, Ludo, and the rest treated her like she was just plain normal. She stretched out the kinks in her back, wondering when everyone had decided to return to the Underground.

"Shh! She's awake-a'!" a little voice said from on top of her bureau. Looking up, she saw three little brownies trying to hide behind her makeup bag and mirror. She smiled. Perhaps not everyone had left yet.

"Have you stayed here all night?" she asked.

"Oh yes-a." the tallest brownie answered, "Fraggity-goblins too. Nice place, good place, nice nice place. Never wanna waka-waka leave. Lookie!" The brownie behind the mirror pointed up towards her four-poster bed, where half a dozen goblins had strung up hammocks made out of her flannel night shirts between the posts, snoring in their different levels.

Sarah's mind whirred. Brownies _and_ goblins! Could she keep them? As far as she knew, there were no rules about not keeping either in the house. She was unfamiliar with the actual care of magical creatures, though. She'd read stories of course, but her first-hand knowledge was non-existent.

Something in her gut told her that she should try bribery, especially the kind that could be eaten. She'd learned to trust this gut instinct over the years; it was usually right when it came to everything in the world that shouldn't make sense.

"You guys just stay here, ok? Don't let the others leave the room either," she said to the brownies before going down to the kitchen. Both they and the goblins had been awfully chaotic, both in the Labyrinth and at the party, and she hoped food would make them behave.

When Sarah got to the kitchen, she found a note from Karen on the counter.

_"You slept in late, again! We tried to wake you a dozen times, but we had to go to Granny and Gramps's without you. Also, what happened to your room?"_

Crap. So Karen had noticed. She'd have to think of a really good story this time to explain the mess, especially all the glitter. The fact that she hadn't mentioned the goblins was good, though. Maybe that meant goblins were the sort of magical creatures who could only be seen by a worthy few? It was worth asking about.

All that was in the cupboard in large enough quantities was some old cinnamon sugar oatmeal that no one in the house liked. So she stirred a giant pot of the stuff, thinking back to her adventure the night before. It shouldn't have happened the way it did. She considered herself a fantasy expert. She'd imagined hundreds of mythical worlds. She'd inhabited them through her books and shows and daydreams, breathed life into them and their characters, even acted some out. She always expected that _when_ she really, truly encountered something magical (it had never been a question of _if_) that she'd be properly amazed by it.

But from the moment Sarah had been whisked away Underground, she hadn't once felt the need to just stop and stare. Somehow, it had felt more like putting on a pair of old ballet flats as opposed to the exotic glass slipper she'd always imagined. Though she felt much more at ease Underground than she'd ever felt Above, even with the near-death situations and fear of losing Toby, she felt cheated. Why didn't she react properly?

In frustration, she banged the wooden spoon on the side of the pot a little too hard and sprayed little bits of oatmeal all over her face and hair.

Well, she remembered as she picked the flakes out of her hair, there was one time she couldn't help but stare. Her dark tresses had been done up in flowing twists and she'd worn a proper ball gown that was fit for a princess. The man she'd been staring at was… well, in the moment at least, he'd been fit to be her prince.

She shooed that thought from her mind. Something about the Goblin King made her shoulders want to curl up into her neck. It was like the feeling she had right before dissecting frogs in biology; something was terribly wrong about the situation, and she wanted no part of it. That was why the ballroom dream disturbed her so much. How had he made her feel comfortable around him without her consent? Had the drugged peach been that powerful? She really didn't want to know. In any case, she didn't plan on eating anything she hadn't cooked with her own two hands ever again.

At this point the oatmeal was good enough. She grabbed some spoons and bowls and headed upstairs. The closer she got, though, the louder the thumps and screeches became. _Oh please tell me they haven't completely destroyed my room_, she hoped as she opened the door.

The inside was worse than she could have imagined. Her wooden chair and chest had been dismantled into foot long chunks and stacked up besides…something. It looked like all her books in a pile and covered in a few layers of her shaving cream. There was also her pedicure soaker jetting out the window while attached to the stick part of an old hobby horse. Worst of all was her closet door. It was only slightly ajar, but she had to cover her mouth with the crook of her elbow to avoid gagging at the stench that came from that little crack.

"What on EARTH is going on in here?" She yelled, looking all around the room for the culprits.

A little goblin popped his head out from a layer of her sheets. "You's back!" He ran/tripped over to her and latched onto her leg. "We thoughts you was gone forever!"

Sarah rolled her eyes. "I was making you breakfast, I didn't go to Spain."

The goblin with three fingers and the deep voice said, "The brownies said we wasn't allowed to leave _ever_. We gots... scared."

"But looks!" a third goblin pointed out, "we made shelter and gots firewood and made a lavine!"

"Sure is complicated," Sarah muttered under her breath as she made eyes at the makeshift toilet in her closet, "but you didn't have to worry. I'm going to take care of you all now, and you'll never have to go all boy scouts on me again, ok?" They all wiped their brows dramatically. "But! Before I let you have this breakfast, you need to clean up everything in here, understood?"

"Oh sure, lady." A female goblin said. She and a chunky goblin in a green dress looked at each other, nodded their heads, and suddenly the room was back to the way it had been even before the party last night.

"What- how-?" Sarah said, trying to make sense of the instant shift.

"Oh, that's Kingy," the one wearing the dress said, "He gives us _maaaagics."_

Sarah's shoulders started creeping up into her neck at the mention of the Goblin King. She couldn't let that be a regular thing. "Ok guys. You want to stay here, right?"

"Right!" they all shouted.

"And you want to have breakfast?" she asked.

"Right!"

"Um, what is it?"

"Only if there's _suuuugaaar."_

Sarah scratched the back of her neck, "Well, it's cinnamon sugar oatmeal today-"

"YES I WANTS IT!"

"Right now!"

"_Suuuuuggaaaar!"_

"Ok then!" Sarah tried to look menacing with a ladle in one hand and the other hand pinning the oatmeal pot to her hip. "If you want to stay, and you want sugar breakfast, you need to follow the rules."

All the goblins plopped down in front of her and looked up, expectantly. The brownies had finally come out of hiding and were also listening. Good.

"First rule! No one mentions the Goblin King."

"But Kingy-"

Sarah gave the deep-voiced goblin a glare. "No. Kingy. He has no power over me, and I will not let him take you away. Do you _want_ to be kicked into the Bog of Eternal Stench?" They were quick to shake their heads. "Good. I know Underground is where you came from and will always be your home, but I am _never_ returning there as long as his pantsiness rules, and don't want to hear about him ever again."

Now that she'd finished the little speech she'd prepared while stirring oatmeal, she realized her captive audience would probably expect more than one rule. "Uhhh, and you have to do whatever I say. Now eat your oatmeal."

The hoard gave an unintelligible shout of excitement as they all plunged their faces into the pot, using the bowls as nothing more than stepping stools to get a better shot at the sugary oats.

Sarah sighed as she watched them slurp and burp. She'd meant what she said. Even if it had been nothing special, Underground had felt more like a home than her home ever had, but she was never going back as long as the Goblin King was there. She'd just have to find a way to bring the Underground Above to her. If that meant keeping goblins and brownies and calling on her friends a dozen times a week, she'd do it.

That deep part of her gut told her she had that power, too.

* * *

A/N: There you have it! I had never intended to make goblins a real feature in this story, but for some reason I couldn't get them out of my head when I was drafting this chapter. What say you? Do they stay, or nay?


	11. A Kingdom on Fire

A/N: Sorry I didn't update last week. Last week of school, papers to grade and report cards to write, you know the drill. As recompense, this chapter is extra long, and I'll be updating an extra time this week!

* * *

It felt like the whole kingdom was on fire. Even the fireys were complaining about the heat. Sarah had been gone less than a week and already the citizens of the Underground could tell their monarch was angrier than he'd ever been.

As soon as she left, there had been a terrifying show of fireworks from the highest tower of the castle, though there'd been nothing exciting or beautiful about the red and orange flares shooting dangerously close to the Goblin City. Even the really dumb goblins had run for cover, and some were still in hiding. Since then, the bog started boiling, sending the stench high in the air. A family of dragons moved into the hedge maze and was burning up layer upon layer of labyrinth. And the King sat in a cavern far below the castle, so far underground he was almost Above. Next to him was a bubbling sea of lava, just looking for a way to explode.

"Your majesty?" Mithir said, knocking on a stalagmite.

"Leave me, Mithir," the King ordered in a low voice, "I won't ask you again." His back was towards his advisor; all he could see of the King was a shadowy outline of his chaotic hair against the brilliance of the lava.

Mithir paused. Last night, he'd described to his betrothed, Sorcha, all the panic King was causing. He knew the King was upset about losing Sarah, but he couldn't understand why he wouldn't just pick himself up and try again. He wanted to talk to the king like a man bested in a game who was being a sore loser. All he'd need to do was give the King a few slaps on the back, play a rigged round of cards, and he should be back to normal. But Sorcha, in her infinite wisdom, had seen instead a man with a broken heart and a wounded pride, a far more complicated matter for a man as practical as Mithir. She'd suggested letting the Goblin King talk through his pain, telling Mithir to just keep saying "what else?" when the King was bearing his soul.

He gulped. Somehow, he didn't think it'd be that easy. But Sorcha was right on so many other occasions, so he spoke up. "My lord, I think you need to talk."

A giant bubble of lava popped beside Mithir, sending flecks of burning rock flying through the air. He only _just_ managed to avoid them by flattening himself to the ground.

_Time for a different tactic,_ Mithir though. "Your majesty, have you seen your kingdom? It's in ruins. It's _literally_ a hot mess."

"Then, as my chief advisor, you'd best get to fixing it," he growled without turning to face Mithir, "I'm busy."

"With what? Being childish and-"

The King wheeled around. "Finish that sentence. I dare you."

Mithir gulped. He wanted to take a step back, then another and another, all the way up the stairs and into the safety of the library. He saw the fire in the King's eyes, the layers of anger that masked his pain.

After seeing that, Mithir knew this really was deeper than a fae unused to losing games. He wouldn't be any true help in the library, not when the King was like this. He sucked in a breath. Instead of backward, he took a step forward. Then another. The King's eyebrows rose ever so minutely. Soon Mithir was standing right in front of the King, and then he sat down beside him.

"I'm sorry," he whispered while looking at the ground, "I was out of line. I only want to help."

"Out of line indeed," the King said, examining his fingernails.

"Can you tell me what happened? Between you and-"

"That's your idea of help?" he said, pushing himself off the ground and sending a geyser of lava into the air, "Asking me to retell my great defeat? What, pray tell, would that do?"

"Well, if you don't tell me, we can't come up with some plan to fix whatever happened between the two of you and get Etain back."

The King gritted his teeth. "She goes by Sarah now. And she won't be coming back."

Mithir's stomach dropped off a cliff. He couldn't keep the desperation out of his voice when he asked, "_Why?"_

"BECAUSE SHE DOESN'T WANT ME!" The King's façade cracked down the middle, and where he'd stood, an ordinary, broken, fae stood in his place. "She said I have no power over her, and that means its over."

Mithir wasn't sure if this was the appropriate time to use Sorcha's phrase, not when he so desperately wanted to know how the King had lost power over his wife, but he decided to try it. "What else?"

The King scoffed. "What else? Well, the girl who came to my labyrinth was _not_ my wife. Etain- no, Sarah- oh, whoever she is. She didn't remember anything! I created the whole labyrinth because she liked puzzles and strategies. I gave her subjects to rule over and get her through the Labyrinth, like any good Queen would have. I even called her precious and _danced_ with her. _How could she not remember?_"

Mithir had been privy to certain aspects of Sarah's run, though he hadn't seen any dancing. Even so, none of what the King described resembled Etain much. "Sir? Is that really why you made the Labyrinth?"

"Of course. I found that book in her room she'd been reading about a maze, and I knew that as a ruler she'd be interested in strategy-"

"You mean _The Man in the Maze?_"

"Yes, yes," he said, waving his hands as he began to pace, "that's the one. About mind games."

Mithir shook his head and gave a little laugh. "You've got it backwards. That book was Etain's favorite because it's about _love_. I know. Many times growing up she'd ask me to play the part of the Knight and run the maze to meet her in the middle and live happily ever after."

"It's…it's not about logic?" the King stalled in his pacing.

"Your Majesty. Let me tell you about a young girl named Etain. She reminds me very much of this girl named Sarah you tell me stories about. They both love play-acting, especially stories about quests, and good and evil, and romances. They both are enchanted by the idea of a true love who would sweep them off their feet."

"Etain would never scoff at nobility and run around like a wild thing the way this Sarah does. I almost wonder if they're really the same person."

"The girl I knew named Etain had parents who wished her to grow up very prim and proper. She was being groomed for a place in court, even a title if she could get it. She was taught how to speak softly, defer, and demur by these parents, and she learned her lessons well. Sarah has no such parents. Though you say her father loves her, Sarah can't have that same guidance Etain did."

"So Sarah just needs a few etiquette lessons? That hardly sounds sufficient." he said, then muttered under his breath, "You didn't see how she smashed my ballroom."

Mithir shrugged. "Sarah's older than Etain was when she started learning such things. I don't know. But sire?" He stood up and looked the King in the eyes. "Sarah sounds like the same person Etain always was. She's the person you would have met if you'd been married longer."

The King rolled his eyes to break contact. "I don't believe that, not for a second. Not that it matters now. She's clearly said I have no power over her. Couldn't give the brat an etiquette lesson if she begged me."

"Would you?"

The King laughed. "Give her etiquette lessons? Forgive me if I gag."

"No," Mithir said. The King had turned to stare at the lava pools, but he was still listening. "I meant just visit her. If you could."

"I won't pretend like I don't know what you're doing."

"What am I doing?"

The King turned his head just a hint over his shoulder. "You're trying to get me to admit to some affection for the girl. It won't work."

"Why?"

"Because I need a queen!" he faced Mithir, "Not some silly girl who likes to play with her toys. If she'd come here, remembered who she was, and turned back into Etain, this would all be well and good. But she didn't. And now she won't."

Mithir chewed his lip. He hadn't wanted to bring this up. "You'll die if she doesn't, you know."

The King froze.

"You must have heard rumors. They try to cover these things up, but some hints sneak out. Queens dying when their Kings were killed in battle, Kings falling mortally ill days after their Queens died in childbirth. We fae can live forever, but if we don't, we take our loved ones with us."

"And Sarah is mortal."

Mithir nodded. "Sire, forgive me if I overstep, but I know you must have some feelings for the girl. You wouldn't be so upset if you didn't."

The King stalled for a few moments, looking out at the lava. It was calmer now, not quite so bubbly or hot as it had been. "When Etain and I married, I gave her certain powers. I imagine that's how she's able to order my powers ineffective against her now, actually. On the day we wed, I told her that I would cherish her, respect her, and treat her like a Queen. I feel neither respect nor a desire to cherish, but there is _something_ there, yes."

"Something strong enough to motivate you through whatever challenges lie ahead? Strong enough to take you Above again?"

"Blast it, Mithir, yes. Ok? Yes. There is strength to fight an army in my feelings. But she's turned me down once! Why should she not a second time?"

"Because Etain dreamed of a knight who would fight with her and for her! Not a tyrannical King who tries to thwart her at each turn."

"I thought she liked mind games. How was I to know she wanted love?"

Mithir huffed. "Well it doesn't matter now, does it? As long as you don't play the villain again, she won't hate you. By attempting a second time, she'll see you persevere and she'll admire you. And when you let her know your strong-as-armies feelings for her…"

"…she'll return home as my Queen."

"Close. I think it'd be more accurate to say she might also _love_ you."

The King took a step back, as if he hadn't considered the possibility of Sarah returning his feelings. "How?"

"You're the Goblin King," Mithir said, smiling, "I'm sure you can figure it out."

The King gave a small smile in return before his face resumed its stoic block. "You breathe one word of this conversation to another soul and I'll relocate you to the Bog, permanently. You realize this, right?"

"Sorcha wouldn't be too pleased with the bog as our honeymoon spot. I'll keep my tongue tied, your majesty."

"Who's Sorcha?" the King said, already halfway up the stairs.

Mithir dropped his hands to his sides. "I give up!"

They climbed up through they layers of the castle til they reached the King's study in his highest tower. Looking out over the land, they could see nothing but a cool, dark mist throughout the Underground. The fires were nowhere to be found.

* * *

A/N: There you have it! Review if the mood strikes.


	12. Move-In Day

A/N: I'm so sorry. I won't get into why I've been away from this story for almost two months as it's kinda personal, but know that I'm already working on the next chapter and hope to update bi-weekly on Thursdays from here on out. Enjoy!

* * *

Sarah fumbled with the set of keys on her new lanyard. _I think it was shiny silver for the dorm room and dull silver for the outside door. But then what was the golden one for?_ She tried all three in the keyhole, but none of them made the door budge.

"Here, let me try that," Robert said as he put down her suitcase and leaned into the door. With a jerk to the right, the door popped open and he stumbled inside. Waiting for them was a single lofted bed, a dresser, a desk, and a closet, and all were smelling faintly of disinfectant and plastic.

Sarah grinned. She'd been waiting for this moment and wasn't going to wait another second to start unpacking. Once her dad left the room to bring up another load of totes, she opened the secret compartment below her box of books and posters. Three goblins who refused to let Sarah journey alone rolled out, coughing and sputtering about the heat. Karen had been getting more and more suspicious of the strange messes and missing boxes of Cocoa Puffs, and Sarah thought college came just in time. When it was down to Columbia and Dartmouth fighting over her perfect SATs and valedictorian status, she made her decision by asking for a single room. Columbia could suck it.

"Lady! Lady! Get the hammocks!" little Gwin said, bouncing excitedly on her kangaroo-like tail. Sarah planned for the goblins to stay in hammocks strung along the ceiling to look like decorations, and hopefully the brownies could live in her windowsill garden.

"We can go to the 'festateria now?" Mono said in his deep voice.

"No, I told you, only I can go to the _cafeteria_, and it's not open right now. You guys need to chill."

"But we's HUNGRY! We was in the box forEVER." Klonk thumped his long tail on the linoleum floor for extra emphasis.

"Hold on, we have to get everything up here and Dad out. You guys do that 'go invisible' thing while I finish up. It'll be dinner soon." She was about to leave before she turned on her heel, "And no leaving this room until I get back. Which will be in two minutes. So don't freak." She paused a second to make sure they'd understood, and once they'd shimmered out of view she went to confront the massively over-stuffed SUV.

Before she'd packed her vanity set and mirror away, she made a general invitation to all her friends Underground to visit her at college. Well, all except the fireys. Somehow, she knew they'd find a way to set off the smoke alarm, and had absolutely forbidden them from making an appearance. But Hoggle and Sir Didymus had agreed immediately, and Ludo promised he would if he fit in her room. As much as she was dreading the goodbye, she couldn't wait until her Dad was gone so the whole gang could come and help her spruce the place up.

In no time, the SUV was empty and Robert was clenching his jaw, trying not to cry. Karen 'wished she could come' but she had to take Toby to some educational museum. Sarah didn't mind. She and Toby had had a great time together the night before, eating popcorn and watching Disney movies, and she said goodbye to him then. She'd given Karen a pat on the shoulder on her way out the door and called it good.

Her dad was different. As he coughed a few manly coughs and scuffed the dirt pathway to the dorm, she launched herself into his arms. "I'll be home for Thanksgiving, Dad. Maybe even earlier if school is boring."

He gave her a quick squeeze before taking a step back. His voice cracked a little as he said, "Well I, uh, gotta hit the road. Gotta hit the turnpike before all that traffic slows me up."

Sarah nodded, letting him get into the car, and she waved as he drove away. A second later, a quiet 'pop' sounded near her right ear and a light pressure rested on her shoulder. The little feathers that tickled her neck gave her visitor away.

"You know the chickens don't like when you wear their feathers, Slobb."

"But dey's so _preeeeeeetty."_ She said, patting down the dress she'd made of the mottled brown and orange feathers.

Sarah rolled her eyes, smiling, "Anyways, I thought you weren't coming til we were unpacked! _Someone_ didn't want to do any work," she said, scratching Slobb under her chin.

Slobb nuzzled her spiky metal helmet against Sarah's neck in a way that anyone else would have interpreted as threatening. She was just grateful that no one else could see the goblin acting like a cat on her shoulder. The grassy quad was quickly filling with students and parents, laden with their bags and boxes. Sarah decided to go in and help her "roommates" settle in, but while she was reaching for the keys on her lanyard, something crashed into her from behind, sending her sprawling onto the lawn.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry," a guy's voice said from behind a mountain of clothes. He put down the laundry basket, adjusting his glasses and reaching down to help her. "Stupid clothes. I knew I shouldn't take so much in one trip, but-"

"Don't worry, it's cool," Sarah said, accepting his hand and righting herself on two feet again. Somehow, Slobb managed to hang on and was still perched on her shoulder. She was looking hard at the boy, like he'd stolen her prized chicken, and Sarah was glad he couldn't see goblins. What was up with her?

"I'm Edward," he said, shaking the hand she still hadn't let go of. "I'm on Bissel 1st floor."

Sarah was a little bit mesmerized by the firmness of his handshake, but when Slobb's helmet poked a little too hard into her jaw, she snapped out of it. "Um, yeah. I'm on the 2nd floor. Do you need any help moving in, or…"

He smiled. "Actually, that would be great. My Dad ran off to talk to somebody he graduated with, and left me with the rest of the car to unload."

Within the hour, Sarah had learned that he liked chess, cult movies, and Jane Austen, once met a guy who looked like David Tennant, and that he was an undeclared major, as he had 'no idea what he wanted to do with his plebian life.'

"But what about you?" he asked, "Have you decided on a major?"

"Pre-law," she said, still finding the taste of it strange in her mouth. It'd only been on paper until now.

"Ah, let me guess," he stroked his bearded chin thoughtfully, "you want to save the world, or the whales, or at least a few ducklings."

Sarah smiled. "The lost and lonely, for sure. I'm hoping to be a defense lawyer for abused or neglected kids."

His eyebrows rose slightly at that. "Don't tell my father. He thinks anyone who goes into law for any intention other than making loads of money is deluded."

"And what do you think?" she asked before she could stop herself.

"I think simple kindness is as noble as it gets. If you can best be kind in a court, that's great."

Sarah blushed. Slobb noticed too, and poked her again in the neck. She had to fight the wince that she wanted to make, but settled for flicking the goblin in the stomach in a way that she hoped resembled shooing a fly. Slobb huffed and 'popped' away.

Edward wasn't paying attention. He was too busy putting his hands in his pockets, taking them out to wring his wrists, and then putting them back in. Then he looked up. "Thanks for helping me, Sarah. I hope I'll see you around campus? Or maybe we'll have classes together?"

"Yeah, that would be great. And hey. We're in the same building. I'm sure we'll have to run into each other washing our clothes or something." Sarah mentally slapped herself. _Don't mention dirty clothes! Now he's probably thinking about your underwear._

"Uh, I really have no idea how that works. I brought a bag full of quarters, but I'm going to end up shrinking all my shorts down to doll-sized, I just know it. That's why my pile of clean clothes was so huge. I'm hoping I won't need to do laundry until Thanksgiving."

They'd reached Sarah's door. As much as she wanted to keep talking to him, she could hear a bit of a rumpus even from the hallway, so she said, "Well us 'plebians' know how it goes. Whenever you're down to your last pair of socks, call for backup. Until then?"

He stretched out his hand. Once she made contact to shake, he curved it to the side and kissed her knuckles. "I'm sure you're every inch a queen, Sarah." She had no idea how to respond to that other than laugh, and doubly so when he tripped over his shoe when leaving. Her stomach did a funny dance as she waved goodbye.

When she closed the door behind her, there was an uproar among the goblins.

"Whosat?"

"Why you with him?"

"He smelled funny."

Sarah rolled her eyes at the jealous flood of emotion and knew she had one particular goblin to thank. "Slobb?"

She 'popped' into the room, choosing to drape herself over a taped box labelled 'Sarah's bedding.' "Oh _hiiiiii_ Lady."

"What exactly is your problem?"

"Who, Slobb?" she said innocently, "I don't have a problem with _aaaaaannythiiiiing."_

Sarah crossed her arms and squatted down to the goblin's level. Slobb gulped. "I think you do have a problem, my dear, and you need to spill it. Now."

"He-who-must-not-be-named thinks-"

Sarah groaned, "Guys, I've told you. Voldemort is fictional, and there's really nothing to worry-"

"No, Lady!" Klonk interrupted, knocking over a stack of CDs with his tail, "SLOBB means the OTHER guy we's not sposed to talk about."

Sarah looked over at the feather-clad goblin shaking her green head so vigorously the helmet was rattling. "Mhm!" she squeaked, "_That_ he-who-must-not-be-named said that boys are _baaaaad_."

"Sometimes I think you guys just make up stories," Sarah sighed, "Don't worry. Even if I hang out with this other guy, I won't love you any less!" By the looks on their faces she could tell they weren't satisfied, but Sarah knew how to cheer them up. "Anyways, it's dinner time! Who wants some cupcakes?"

As if on cue, the rest of her horde showed up at those words, filling her dorm. Amid the scrambling and the begging, Sarah laughed, but she was worried.

She never had any interest in boys in high school, to the point where she'd questioned her sexuality for a bit. The frequent dreams she had of a certain Goblin King had cleared that up, though. They were so vivid, as if she had a whole fantastical timeline of a life with him, and she was definitely attracted to him in those dreams. But still. She'd never tried to date a boy in real life. What if they weren't making up some story about the Goblin King not liking boys?

She scoffed at the idea. It didn't matter now, anyway. He was Underground and she was at Dartmouth and their two paths were never going to cross again. The paths of a bearded gentleman and herself, however…. Sarah locked the excited horde in her dorm as she skipped out the door with a backpack big enough for a dozen cupcakes, keeping her eye out for a guy with dark messy hair.

* * *

A/N: Thanks to all who have liked/reviewed/favorited this story so far. Knowing I'm writing for someone is what keeps me from abandoning things altogether.

Anyways, what are your thoughts? I'm genuinely curious to see what you guys think of this one.


	13. The Speechless Man

A/N: Look at me, updating my story when I said I would! :D Enjoy some _actual_ Sarah/Jareth content!

* * *

Sarah couldn't get used to how light her backpack was. With her dorm right near most of her academic buildings, she had no reason to carry every single book with her like she had in high school. Even if she did have a fairly large stack, (as she did on Monday mornings) Edward was there to help carry them.

"You know you don't have to read the 'suggested' ones, right?" Edward had tried to say on their second day of school, "They won't affect your grade." Still, she'd insisted on bringing six of six required history books and all ten of the suggested texts.

"Since when do I make my decisions based on whether or not there will be a tangible reward at the end?" She'd teased back.

But a traitorous voice in the back of her head had to whisper, "_When there are baby brothers waiting for you at the end of the labyrinth."_

She and Edward had checked their schedules and had 4/5 classes together, the only difference being literature 101. She was sitting there now in the second row of an amphitheater-sized lecture hall, tapping her pencil on her already opened notebook. A rowdy group of boys, likely soccer players, were coming into the classroom while throwing a balled-up piece of paper back and forth. It didn't help Sarah's already formidable annoyance.

She'd gone to the registrar's office three times now. She took the AP Literature exam her senior year and gotten a 5. They already accepted her four other AP classes, so why was literature any different? They couldn't give her a straight answer except that they had "seen the paperwork at one time," but that "College Board must have lost her score and so she'd have to retake the class."

Suddenly, her attention snapped out of the daydream and onto the man pulling out the seat next to her. She nearly choked on her saliva. There, in the flesh, was the Goblin King.

Wait.

No it wasn't. It _did_ look a lot like him, though.

Wait! Yes it was!

She grabbed her purse, ready to run, and squeezed her eyes shut once more to be absolutely sure.

Nope, she decided when she opened them again, definitely not the Goblin King. This man did have wispy, platinum-blonde hair, rather tight skinny jeans, and a worn leather jacket, and he had _very_ defined muscles underneath that jacket. He was a little bit older than the typical student in a literature 101 class. He even was wearing a ring with a half-moon pendant. But when she looked at his face, she didn't see the lifted, colorful eyebrows or the two-toned irises. He didn't have that pained, fearful look she'd last seen the Goblin King wear when she told him he had no power over her.

But he _was_ looking at her.

"I'm Sarah," she said to hide her rudeness, holding out her hand for the man to shake. He gave her a half smile and took the hand, and his leather, fingerless, biker gloves were smooth against the sensitive skin of her palm. He didn't introduce himself, but pointed to his mouth and shook his head.

"Oh, you're mute? Sorry, was that offensive? I don't know the term. But you can either hear me or read lips or something, right?"

The man's nostrils flared in an amused snort and he nodded, then pointed to the door where the professor was strolling in, ten minutes late.

For the rest of the class, Sarah felt drawn to the man whose name she still didn't know. He took notes on what the professor was saying, meticulous notes in fact, and only turned to look at Sarah when he thought her attention was elsewhere. She felt a strange twinge in her stomach whenever she felt him watching her, but it wasn't the butterfly-flutters she got when thinking about Edward. She didn't understand it, so she decided to ignore it. It was probably the weird taco she'd eaten for lunch.

At one point, the boys were still playing 'toss the paper ball' every time the professor turned to the blackboard. It bounced between rows for twenty minutes before the ball went awol and the professor saw.

"I'm so glad to see you all enjoying class," he said, "but don't forget to be this enthusiastic about Mark Twain!"

The man next to her snorted. When Sarah quirked an eyebrow at him, he grabbed his pencil and underlined a sentence in their syllabus.

_"I operate under a zero-tolerance policy in my class. Any outbursts or disrespect will be dealt with immediate dismissal from class. No exceptions."_

"Way to let us know we can trust exactly nothing you say, eh?" she whispered out of the corner of her mouth. She was rewarded with another snort and an eye roll. Her stomach twinged again. Why did that eye roll look so familiar?

By the time class ended, she was very glad for the man to her left. The frustration pile up might have caused her to tear all her hair out if it weren't for all the times he'd pointed out inconsistencies in the syllabus. He tapped her on the shoulder before she could get up to leave and handed her what looked like a page ripped out of a book. There were circled words and lines connecting them, giving it the appearance of a maze or puzzle. He pointed to the first circled word on the page and traced his finger down to a second circle, following the line he'd drawn. Sarah put her finger on the second and followed the line to a third, then looked up to see if she'd understood. He gave her a single nod.

She stashed the message in her sweatshirt pocket and gave him a broad smile. "That'll be a piece of cake. I'm great with puzzles."

He pursed his lips in the strangest way, but his eyes were shining. He nodded eventually, though, and offered his hand as if to say goodbye.

She shook it quickly. "I'll see you on Thursday, ok? I'm gonna head out to solve this."

He stared at her as she left, and even after she'd exited the building and was halfway across campus, she still felt she could feel his eyes on her.

* * *

That night, she was lying in bed with a headache. The word order had been simple enough to follow and copy down, but the meaning eluded her completely. She'd checked four times to be sure she'd understood the pattern right, but there seemed to be no other solution:

_Best the only to go shall prize the west is east and forward is back  
_

The ending few words made sense, but the beginning was a complete mystery. She gave an aggravated growl and let her head bang on her headboard. Just then, a heavy mass dropped onto her lap from somewhere in the canopy above, which caused her to shout in surprise. When she looked down, she saw Slobb nuzzling hard into her stomach.

"Not now, Slobb," she said, removing the armor-less goblin from her bed, and onto her side table, "I'm working on something."

"You's not done your puzzle yet? I know _aaaaallll_ about that."

"Do you, now?" Sarah said, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, "that doesn't surprise me, since you live in a giant puzzle yourself."

Slobb hopped back onto the bed and pushed her little head to cuddle underneath Sarah's arms. "I could help you, Lady," she offered.

"And how would that work, Slobb? You can't read."

"The way_ fooorward _is sometines de way_ baaaaack."_

"I know that Slobb. Are you also going to tell me that 'Things are not always what they seem'?"

Slobb smiled a big, toothy smile. "Dere you go, Lady! You remember!"

"Of course I do. Now get off my bed and back to your own hammock."

She grumbled a little, but one 'poof' later and Sarah was again the sole occupier of her bed. She didn't want to admit that she'd needed help from a goblin, but she had to check what the pattern was backward.

Her lips spread into a slow, wide grin and immediately she settled down in bed. Perhaps she could coax Thursday to come sooner by sleeping.

* * *

A/N: There you are! Reviews very much appreciated! Also, any guesses as to how Jareth's getting around the 'no power over you' stipulation?


	14. Poof!

A/N:Thank you, thank you to those who've stuck with me through the gaps between updates. You all rock.

Lylabeth 1- You were completely right, and I liked the suggestion so I edited chapter 13. Thanks!  
MyraValhallah noted that the goblins knew about Voldemort before the publication of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone. Uhhh... yeah. We're just gonna leave that because it's a good joke, haha.

I had to stay home sick today, so you can all benefit from my fever, lol. Enjoy!

* * *

On Thursday, Sarah was the first one in her literature class. She sat, waiting in the empty hall and going over Tuesday's reading assignment to keep her occupied. She could feel her stomach twisting itself into little knots as she was trying to breathe steadily. Why was she so nervous?

Edward had noticed something was off with her. She'd only picked at her breakfast, which was enough of a clue. On top of that, though was nervous pacing during Wednesday's study night and snapping at Edward for looking through her literature notes. Since then, he hadn't let the issue of her mood drop, and she hadn't been quite sure what to tell him.

She'd mentioned that she'd made a new friend in her Literature 101 class, and that he was funny and also mute, but she hadn't mentioned how attractive he was, or how she'd gotten a weird feeling in her stomach when he was around. Somehow, she didn't think Edward would take kindly to having anything resembling competition, so she kept that part quiet. Instead of telling him about her mute friend, she told Edward a different truth- her dreams were back.

In high school, soon after she solved the labyrinth, she had vivid dreams about a world that seemed so familiar. There were bits and pieces that reminded her of the labyrinth, but then there were whole landscapes which were completely foreign. In every dream, she was some kind of important person, responsible for a vast realm of fantastic creatures and peoples. She had friends and relatives and even an enemy in these dreams, and they always ended the same: she would shrink to an impossibly small size before the world went dark. The Goblin King was always there at the end, laughing at her.

Now they were back, but Sarah was surprised to find the Goblin King in a more positive light than ever. Where he once would tell her he hated her or tried steal Toby, now he was giving her beautiful crystal jewelry and walking with her in some garden. Before he'd laugh his booming laugh over her shrinking frame, now he reached out and tried to save her. It had put her completely on edge for the past two nights, so it wasn't a lie that the dreams were making her nervous.

The man walking into the literature class with an armload of books, however, made her _more _nervous.

Sarah pretended like she hadn't seen him and hurriedly wrote nonsense notes to herself in the margins of an assignment. After all, maybe he didn't want to sit next to her again. Just because she felt strangely..._connected_ to him, didn't mean he felt the same.

When she felt his weight slip into the chair beside her, she felt a little giddy. She tried to look over casually, like she was surprised to see him here, but she couldn't keep it together when she saw his eyes gleaming and chin propped up on his upturned wrists, waiting.

Sarah gently took out the riddle from between the pages of Mark Twain and held it out between two fingers. "I'd like to collect my prize now."

The corner of his mouth slowly quirked up in a smile. He pulled out a paper of his own from between the covers of Twain and held it out for her inspection.

"Piece…of…cake?" read three connected words on the page. "No…help?"

Sarah scoffed, "Cake is best when shared. So speaking of sharing…"

He took the paper back and circled a new word, "Patience."

"I've been waiting two days. I think someone's bluffing."

He circled more words and gave her an unbelieving look, "two…days?"

She rolled her eyes. "Fine, a day and a half. But still."

He again pointed to the circled 'patience' and then crossed his arms, looking pleased with himself.

They passed the class period trading witticisms back and forth. He'd find things to underline or circle in his book, she'd scratch notes back in the margins. Part way through the period, she asked why he didn't just write her notes back.

"Stretches….b..ra..i..n." he'd circle back.

"Right. Because even though college is supposed to do that…" she trailed off on her note and motioned to their professor who was scribbling stick figure sketches of Huck and Jim on the blackboard. The man next to her snorted in response.

Class was almost over when the man reached down into his backpack and offered her a small, pinkish fruit.

Sarah glared. "I hate peaches."

The man shook his head and pointed to the sticker, which read "nectarine." He wiggled the fruit, trying to tempt her.

She rolled her eyes before taking it, knowing that she had lots of hungry goblins back in her dorm that would enjoy it. She leaned down to put it in her own backpack while whispering, "If that was your idea of a prize, you need to do better next time."

When she sat up and looked over to her right, she yelped. The man was gone. She hadn't heard him move, and their professor hadn't called him out for leaving before the period ended. His stuff was still there, including a pile of glitter and a note with "s…or..r…" circled in haste.

"Something the matter, Miss Williams?" her professor called out from his desk down front.

She looked around. Everyone was staring at her, some mildly concerned, some pitying, but most just confused.

"Um, the guy sitting next to me…?" she didn't quite know how to phrase it, so she just motioned to the empty space to her right. She couldn't just say 'he disappeared' because that would make her sound crazy. Same would go for 'he's gone' and 'he left all this glitter.'

"Yes, glad to see you've woken up, Miss Williams. Your friend asked to go to the restroom a while ago. I hope you'll pay more attention when it comes time for your midterm in two weeks. Right, guys? Midterm in two weeks! I'll see you all next Tuesday."

Sarah slunk down in her chair as the rest of the class filed out. She wasn't vain enough to think everyone was looking and judging her as they left, but her cheeks were still burning. She waited in the classroom ten minutes more, past the time when everyone else had left and the ticking of the small clock above the door was the only sound. Once more, her gut instinct of improbably situations came through, suggesting that she'd be waiting many more hours before she'd be able to see him again. So slinging her bag over her shoulder, she left to meet Edward in the dining hall.

* * *

"So he just…left?" Edward said, staring down at his plate and twirling his spaghetti on his fork longer than necessary.

Sarah chewed on her lip. Even before her literature 101 friend disappeared in class, she'd wanted to share the more magical part of her life with Edward. Her first thought had been asking Slobb to introduce herself, but she worried he'd call animal control. It would be better to slowly introduce all the strange and wonderful things in her life, starting with things that were _almost_ believable and working her way up to downright impossible. This morning gave her an opportunity to gauge how well he'd react to a relatively benign supernatural experience, _without_ having to expose any of her goblin roommates. So far, it wasn't looking good.

For starters, he was still twirling. "I mean, I could understand if you really did fall asleep in class and had a weird dream. That would make sense. You sure you didn't fall asleep?"

"You've never had anything weird happen to you, Edward?" she was almost begging him to understand, "Something you just couldn't explain and if anyone else knew, they'd think you were crazy?"

He finally took a bite of the spaghetti and chewed for a moment. "You know, there was this one time in second grade. My Dad had just told me Santa didn't exist, but that Christmas Eve, I saw a reindeer in the backyard, and there were even hoofprints in the snow the next morning."

Sarah nodded, trying to encourage him. She thought that was ridiculous, of course, but it wouldn't help her case to explain why Santa didn't exist, but goblins and an alternative world called the Underground did.

"That doesn't sound anything like what you were describing, though," he added. "I don't think you're crazy, but I think there's gotta be a different explanation. People don't just disappear."

She scooped up a mouthful of peas so she didn't have to respond. He wasn't going to get it, she'd realized. Another almost perfect guy, but one without a magical bone in his body. She should have predicted this when he said he hated Lord of the Rings. She skewered her carrots in frustration.

* * *

Jareth was pretty frustrated himself.

"You just had to break Mummy's china today, didn't you, chap?" he asked the toddler who was having a spit war with some goblins in the pit. Jareth was draped over his semi-circle throne, glaring at the thirteen-hour clock and wishing it would tick faster. The mother in question was fighting with the Wiseman and his hat, blaming them for changing the direction of the sun. Eight hours and fourteen minutes left. He would have reordered time and gone back to the literature hall, but he worried that Sarah's finely tuned senses might have picked up on the lost hours.

He'd been doing so well with her! He was even enjoying being in the mortal's presence. She had good taste in music from what he could tell, had a vast intellect, and practically breathed fantasy, not to mention she liked his smile. He was also impressed that she'd seen through his glamour on the first day, and he'd had to apply one with triple the strength in order to keep her from seeing his true face. Plus, dressing up in Aboveground clothes was fun, and he looked dashing in leather and tight jeans. Speaking of the Aboveground, Jareth wanted to check and make sure he hadn't offended her by disappearing. He summoned a crystal and started to search for her.

_Where are you, precious..._

Ah! She was eating with that boy again, squished into a booth in the corner of the large dining hall. It was times like these he wished his crystals captured sound as well as images, but he supposed he could decipher the body language.

No eye contact? Good start.

No contact, smiles, or laughing? Even better.

Sarah just stabbed her food? The boy must have done something wrong. Splendid.

Jareth tossed the crystal high in the air, letting it dissolve in a shower of glitter over the goblin pit. Soon, he was sure Sarah would remember him. Soon, he wouldn't have to pretend to be some mortal at university. She'd come willingly back Underground and they could put this human nonsense behind them.

* * *

A/N: There we are! I've got somewhere between 8 and 10 chapters left, so even if you just found this there's still plenty of story to tell. :) As always, comments/constructive criticism is appreciated and encouraged. (Plus, I'm sick. What makes writers feel better than comments when they're sick? Nothing, that's what.)


	15. The Owl

Sarah's mystery friend was missing from class again on Tuesday. She looked at the clock every few minutes, ignoring everything the old, batty teacher said in the hopes that her friend would come in late, but class was dismissed without his appearance. She sighed, pulled on her Dartmouth sweatshirt, and braced herself against the chilly September breeze outside. She followed a pattern in the brick path out the door and wished she had another puzzle to solve.

On her way across the green quad, she noticed a large, white bird fluttering above her. She smiled at the way it was using the strong gusts of air to twist and dive, almost like it was dancing in the wind. Then one of the gusts kicked up a large cloud of dirt into her upturned face, and she kept her head down and covered the rest of her walk back.

When she heard the _click _of her dorm room open, she was surprised at the silence that greeted her on the other side of her door. Usually, the goblins waited quietly for her to get out of class (she'd asked her floormates to make sure they didn't cause a ruckus), and then they would compensate for the silence when she returned with extra noise. Still, it wasn't unusual for them to disappear on Underground business once in a while. She wasn't worried.

She sat down at her desk and got to work on her environmental science homework, interrupted only briefly by shouts of floormates down the hall. Sarah was too focused on comparative public policies to notice, but the shouts were getting closer and closer to her own room, separated by only a few minutes.

The biggest interruption came about ten minutes later when a loud _BANG_ sounded outside. She was nearly startled out of her seat by the noise, and she grabbed the nearest weapon-like object she could before rounding on the window.

"Oh," she said when she saw the source of the noise. She put down the can of Ravioli and shook her head, feeling very silly, "It's just you."

The bird from earlier was currently sitting on her window box, preening the feathers under its wing. It was an owl, and a big one at that. It was almost all white, but its flat face gave it away. She didn't think she'd ever seen a barn owl in person before, but she observed it skeptically. It wasn't foaming at the mouth or making any menacing sounds, so she didn't think it was rabid. Perhaps the shooting club had startled it out of its tree earlier and it was trying to escape, or maybe some drunken frat boy had destroyed its home with a game of tree-climb. Whatever the reason, it didn't seem harmless, even though it was inexplicably awake during the day.

Sarah could never resist making a new friend, so she crept slowly towards the window. When she could stand right in front of the pane and tap on it without scaring the bird away, she decided to do something really crazy and open the window. Slowly, she pried the glass and screen up until finally the window was more than half open, but not wide enough for the bird to come in. Even if wasn't rabid, there was still something she didn't fully trust about the bird. She was surprised that her magical gut-instinct was giving off readings about an ordinary owl, though.

"Hello there," she said softly. She knelt down so she could be on eye level with the bird and she crossed her arms on the windowsill, propping her head up.

The bird tilted its own head one way, then the next, like it was waiting for something.

"You're a very pretty owl, do you know that?" she said, letting her eyes wander over its speckled plumage, "Not sure if I've ever seen an owl in real life before. Edward's said he's seen one, but I doubt one ever popped up in his window box."

The bird shook its feathers and head rapidly, sending a shower of little feathers to cover her seedlings in the box. She pulled away, wary once more of the bird of prey.

"What's wrong with you, huh?" she asked, sitting on her bed a good two feet away from the open window. But the bird didn't answer. It swiveled its head so it wasn't looking at her anymore.

"Fine," she huffed, getting up to return to her desk, "you can sit there and pout all you like. I have homework to do before Edward-"

There again was the violent ruffle of feathers and an accompanying, angry _hoot_.

Sarah eyed the bird, "Can you understand me or something?" She waited a few moments for it to blink or nod, like sentient animals did in the movies. When the owl didn't, Sarah tried something else. "Edward."

A great cry came from the bird, along with several pecks on the half opened window from its great beak.

Sarah returned to her spot kneeling on the ground, now understanding that it wasn't going to hurt her. "What have you got against Edward, huh? He's not such a bad guy. Have you even met him?"

For a long moment Sarah and the bird held eye contact. She felt like she could almost understand him, but that there was some sort of block. Then suddenly, just when Sarah thought she hallucinated and the bird say her name in a man's voice, the bird opened its powerful wings and took off.

A pang of disappointment hit Sarah square in the chest. She'd thought they were having a moment together, she and the owl. She watched it arc high in the sky then dive behind a tree. She stayed kneeling by the window for a few more moments, hoping that it would return, but when it didn't she sighed.

She was about to get up when the white streak burst out from behind the tree and sped back towards her window. There was something shiny dangling from its beak this time, and when it landed with a flutter in her window box, Sarah could see a gold chain with a small, sphere medallion hanging from the bottom. The owl dropped it onto her windowsill and nudged it closer to her with its beak.

"Where'd you find this, huh?" she asked, tracing her finger lightly around the chain and pausing on the small ball. When she'd first seen it, she thought it was a pearl set in some sort of circular golden cage. Now it looked more like a perfectly golden sphere, with swirls of pearl, or was it crystal? Sarah wasn't sure what the medallion was made of, but she knew beauty when she saw it. She rolled it between her fingers and tension she didn't know she was carrying melted off her shoulders. The owl again hooted and nudged the chain of the necklace closer to her.

"So this is for me, huh?" The owl bobbed. She thought about turning it in to campus security for a moment. A piece of jewelry like this must be worth something to its owner. Her fingers slipped back and forth over the ball though, and she found she didn't have the will to get rid of it. She undid the clasp, fastened it around her neck, and then slipped the chain underneath her shirt so no one could see.

"Thank you, Sir Owl," Sarah whispered. She felt as though she needed to repay the great bird for its gift. Slowly, she inched her hand closer and closer to the owl's head. It didn't turn away, make any noise, or really move at all. It stood still as stone, only its eyes moving to follow her hand's progress. When her fingertips finally made contact with the bird's outer feathers, its eyes slid shut.

"Oh my gosh," she murmured, amazed at how soft the feathers were. She threaded her fingers between layers of feathers, finding the soft, downy ones right near the bird's head. She gave them a little scratch with the back of her fingernails. The owl tilted his head back and hooted quietly.

"Yeah? You like getting your head scratched?" Sarah smiled, amazed that the bird was letting her touch it at all. They carried on like that for a few more minutes, Sarah moving on to stroke the owl's wings and chest feathers, grateful that it didn't feel the need to move away from a strange human.

The moment couldn't last, however. An alarm went off on Sarah's desk, and she realized that Edward had been waiting for her in the dining hall for more than a half hour.

"I'm sorry, Sir Owl, but I gotta go. You're welcome to perch on my window box whenever you feel like it, though. Especially if you come bringing shiny gifts again." She giggled at the look on the owl's face when she pulled her fingers away, almost like it was pouting. To apologize, she pressed her lips to the top of the bird's head.

It was then the world started spinning. Sarah's chest tightened painfully, shooting sparks through her whole nervous system. She gasped, tipping backwards onto the bed and clutching her head. All the sparks seemed to flood her brain in the same moment, firing faster than she could process the different pains. She felt like she was going to vomit. Before she squeezed her eyes shut against the brightness of the dusk, she saw the owl pump its wings and take flight.

_What did Jareth do to me?_ Sarah cursed, before realizing what she'd said.

The world stopped spinning as soon as it had started. Sarah was shaking, looking around like she'd never seen her dorm before. She examined her body: toes, legs, torso, shoulders, arms, head. She paused at her hands. She didn't trust herself to sit up yet, so she slid down to the ground, staring at her palms the whole time. _I never used to have freckles on my hands,_ she thought after a few calming breaths, _but one time, I had not two hands but six, and Jareth…_

She froze. _Jareth_.

She reached up to the necklace around her throat and ripped the chain off, throwing the tiny, soothing ball against the cement wall. "I'll kill that bastard."

* * *

A/N: Enjoy! My goal is to have this story finished before November 1st, as I'll never get any fanfic writing done with NaNoWriMo is going on. There's only 7 or 8 chapters left, after all. Whether or not I publish the rest of the story before November is a different, er, story, haha.

Reviews are like gold, and I really value everything people say about my fics. But even if you don't review, I'm glad you're reading! :)


	16. To His Royal Scumbagginess

Jareth strutted into the literature lecture hall Thursday. His bond to Sarah (or perhaps he should really go back to calling her Etain) had been practically _singing_ to him the past day and a half. Even if she asked, he couldn't count the years between the last time they really met, with all glamours, reordered time, and forgotten memories aside, but he knew that in all those years he'd never felt such a strong emotion from her end. It pulsed all the night long, and even if he'd been a bit out of practice when it came to bond communication, he knew she was just as excited as he was for their meeting.

His surprise made him choke slightly on his pumpkin spice latte from the student union. (He had grown fond of watching Etain taking a mugful every morning and wanted to see what the fuss was about. It wasn't unpleasant.) But the latte was forgotten when he saw their shared desk was empty. She always was in class before him. He spun around; was she sharpening a pencil? Talking to a classmate?

No. He searched their bond and sensed her very far away. Instead, he saw a crisply folded and sealed parchment on their shared desk. He passed the professor handing out tests, the soccer bros and their crumpled ball, and the gibbering sea of girls in the row above. Wordlessly, he slunk down into the seat then froze time. The only thing that existed for him was the paper, written in flawless penmanship in a language forgotten to all mortals. He gulped as he read the address:

To His Royal Scumbagginess:

I remember. Everything. And I don't know what the hell you think you're doing up here, unless you _want_ me to hurt you.

You stole my brother. You lured me Underground when I was _fifteen._ And now you're up here, playing some suave, puzzle-giving mute and giving me jewelry? Eff off.

I may have accepted a loveless marriage before. I may have even been content to stay with you for all eternity had I seen no other option. But I'm Above now. I _like_ it here. I have _friends_ here. And yes, that means Edward. I thought it was weird when you started getting your feathers in a twist over his name.

Leave me alone, Goblin King. Go back to your _precious_ Roxa and talk magic to each other. Paint _her_ the bloody mornings of gold and Valentine evenings.

Hate, Sarah

P.S. Stay out of my dreams. Or else.

Jareth crushed the letter in his fist. A tidal wave of emotions crested over him: anger, guilt, disbelief, frustration, and a dozen more of the negative variety. He sucked in a deep breath and tried to count to ten, something Mithir had been teaching him how to do.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

_I will not rush home and kick any goblin in sight out of anger._

Five. Six.

Seven eight nine-

"Oh bog it all," he cursed, transforming in the middle of the frozen room and winging out the open window where time still moved as it should.

* * *

Hours later, Jareth had expanded enough raging energy by navigating the cross-winds above the Labyrinth to think clearly again. He was still angry, but he'd put it on a leash and used it to hunt down a scheme. All hope was not lost. He just needed a plan.

Mithir, _blast him _for how well he knew Etain, had told him once that his wife had dreamed of a knight to fight for and with her. Jareth still hadn't done either from her point of view, he knew. As she so tactfully put it, he'd 'stolen her brother.' Even putting aside how each of those three words were false in reality, he had to allow for her human self-centered nearsightedness. He'd played the villain, just like the mastermind in her novel he was so trying to emulate.

He'd realized something soaring above the Labyrinth, though, that there was one avenue he hadn't fully tried yet.

Seduction.

He'd certainly flirted with her, leered at her, and was very guilty of showing off certain...assets when she came to run his labyrinth, but the poor girl had been quite thick for a teenaged human. He'd expected her to jump his bones when he appeared in his final costume, and was equal parts impressed and disappointed when he hadn't been able to distract her in the ballroom.

She'd never before met the man every fae women (and some of the men) in the Underworld fawned over. She'd met Respectful Jareth, Royal Jareth, and even Romantic Jareth for those few weeks during their honeymoon. She'd never met the man he fondly referred to as Drop-dead Sexy Jareth. No one could resist the Goblin King when he had his swagger turned to full power. Jareth smiled a wicked smile.

As he was strutting back to the castle to make preparations, he realized there was one more thing he had to be excited about. Sarah had communicated with him, and not as the mute boy from her class or a mirage in her dreams. She'd chosen to speak to _him-_ her husband. Her King.

He had power over her once more.

* * *

A/N: Bless you patient people, especially for a shorter-than-usual chapter. For those who didn't see the note on my author page, the updating delay was caused by excessive celebration of the Patriot's excellence which lead to one water-damaged computer. My notes were gone, and it's taken me a while to figure out what direction the story should go in now that I don't have exactly all the details as I once did.

I'm definitely re-thinking some things. Having to read the whole thing over has given me a better sense of the characters I actually wrote, rather than those I'd planned to write, and the difference changes some things. I'm no longer sure how long this story will be, but I'm probably looking at somewhere between 40 and 50K. I've already got half of the next chapter written, actually. So buckle up, ladies and goblins! I'm back in business!


	17. The Dance of the Damned

"...and that's when the purple alligator started tap dancing across the library."

Sarah looked up from her book. "Huh?"

"Finally," Edward said, "I've been trying to talk to you for ten minutes, Sar." His mouth twisted to the right, the way it always did when he was trying to not look angry.

"Sorry," she said, closing the book on her finger to mark the page, "It's Star Wars. I'm _obsessed_ with this one. Just letting you know now, I'll never be able to have a conversation with someone if I'm really into a book." She laughed a little at herself. It _was_ pretty funny how lost in a book she could get.

"I noticed." His lips hadn't untwisted yet, and Sarah started to feel guilty.

"What were you trying to say? Before the alligator bit, I mean."

"Chess club. We've got a meet on Wednesday night. I didn't know if you'd be interested?"

"Wednesday?" Sarah flipped through her mental calendar. "That's the only day I've got off this week since we've got the Dance of the Damned this Friday."

"Oh, right." He rubbed the back of his neck. He'd asked her to go last week, and Sarah had jumped at the chance. It wasn't every day she could get dressed as fantastically as she liked without getting strange looks.

Edward was chewing on his lip now. "You think you could still try to come for part of it? This is kinda important to me. Maybe we could do our homework ahead of time so you wouldn't be behind? We could even start now! I mean, you're not really doing anything."

"Book," Sarah said, illustrating her point by opening it back up without looking at him.

"Right, but, I mean…"

Her eyes flashed. "You mean that your non-utilitarian past times are more valuable than mine. No, I get that." Sarah started packing up her things. Reading would be more comfortable in her own room, anyways.

"Well at least my past times don't take place in fairy-land, Sarah! C'mon, don't leave like that. I didn't mean to make you mad. Please?" He had thrown his head back and was whining at the ceiling by now.

Sarah rolled her eyes at his theatrics. "_Eddy _dear, don't worry. You didn't make me mad, you just reminded me of the dance. I haven't even thought about what I'm going to wear yet. But I need to float around in "fairy-land" for a while to help me, and I know you don't want to come with."

Sarah flounced out of the room before he could formulate a response. She hadn't been entirely untruthful, of course. Edward had made her mad by being an ass, but she really did still want to dance with him. She'd asked Slobb to bring her old Goblin maid Gurkin around today so they could put together a dance dress fit for a fae queen. Fairy land right in the Dartmouth dorms. The thought made Sarah grin all the way back to her room.

* * *

The dance wasn't like Sarah expected. For one, there wasn't any food, a band, or even a coat check. Sarah knew she'd been to dances in high school before remembering her former life Underground, but the human world had never really bothered her before now. Would it kill them to turn the volume down?

Secondly, she was receiving more strange looks here than she ever had, even when she dressed fantastically in high school. All the other girls here wore various shades of next to nothing, which contrasted sharply with Sarah's floor-length, midnight black number. If she'd known the dress code had been "changing a normal costume into a sexy version" she would have complied, but now she was just embarrassed.

She'd spent the past half hour waiting on the side of the gymnasium for Edward to show up. He'd told her he was wearing something "unrecognizable" so she got anticipatory butterflies every time a stranger passed too close. The feeling was wearing off by now though, and instead she was just impatient.

Halfway across the room, the crowd parted to reveal a couple dressed to the nines in a way very similar to her own gown. "No way," Sarah whispered to herself.

Mithir had a watery look in his eyes which was enough to make Sarah push aside a half dozen people in her way. She didn't hesitate before burrowing her face into his chest and letting his arms wrap tightly around. She sucked in deep breaths of air in tearless sobs.

"How's my swan?" he whispered as he rubbed her back in soothing circles.

She pulled back to look at him, finding a reflection in his eyes of that sadness she'd carried for so long. "Horrible. I've missed you so much. I can't even describe..."

"You don't have to explain anything. I'm with you all the way."

"But what about…" Sarah trailled off before her eyes narrowed, "Mithir, why are you here?"

He held up his hands. "I'm here of my own will. I've missed you. I actually had to beg _him_ to let me come. I think he'd rather I didn't get involved. He says he 'doesn't need my meddling.'"

"And? Are you meddling?"

"No," he pulled her hands to his chest, "I know it's been a while for you, but Sarah it's been _centuries_ for me. Words can't describe how much I've missed you. Sarah or Etain, it doesn't matter. You're the same."

She dove in for a second hug, letting the garish decorations, loud music, and grinding bodies melt away into the background. She breathed in deeply and noticed the smell of the Underground clinging to his perfectly tailored suit, deep and blackish-purple.

_Huh_, Sarah though, _Mithir once hated purple._

She leaned back, realizing that even though his heart was unchanged, his looks differed. His suit matched the mask he'd pushed up onto his forehead so she could see his face. He'd trimmed his facial hair into a neat goatee and mustache, and slicked back his ponytail. It was a look she'd never seen on him before, though it suited him nicely.

It was the lovely woman hanging back near a pillar, however, which made her realize just how much she'd missed. The woman who was obviously Mithir's date also reminded her to scan the crowd for her own, but one was coming forward to claim her as a dance partner. Splendid.

She removed herself completely from Mithir's arms and gave a formal curtsey to the woman. It was strange how easily the old manners came back to her. "Mithir, would you do me the honor of introducing me to your lovely date?"

Mithir's smile increased by kilowatts, and he led the way to the pillar. "Sarah, this is Sorcha, my wife."

Sarah's face collapsed. "Oh my gosh. I missed your wedding?" she looked back and forth, almost hoping it was a joke. "I'm… I'm so sorry. And we'd promised! I mean, of course you couldn't even know I was alive, of course you got married. Oh Mithir, I'm so sorry. I don't know what to say."

Mithir and his wife shared a secret smile before turning back to her. "Actually, that's part of the reason why we're here. It's Samhain. We've been planning a Samhain wedding forever, _specifically_ so we could crossover and you and I could have our dance. This was the year your memories came back, so it finally worked out."

"You've been planning your wedding around _me?"_

Sorcha smiled. "You are so important to Mithir, which means you are important to me. We've all known you couldn't have died without feeling it, so we just waitied. I've waited so long to meet you, Sarah. It's an honor."

Sarah curtseyed to Sorcha, who was elegance incarnate in her emerald green gown. Now that she knew the occasion, she decided the fae looked every inch a proper bride.

"Well?" Mithir said, taking his eyes away from the two happy women and sweeping over the large expanse of the crowd, "Shall we dance?"

Sorcha gave Sarah a little push into Mithir's open arm and he led her into the crowd. These people had no idea an Underground Queen was among them and refused to part for the couple.

"I think this will be a bit different from our last dance, Mithir," Sarah said with a half-smile as they settled for some empty space on the periphery, "Plus, I don't have any magic so you aren't allowed to chuck me up to the ceiling and hope I transform to save myself."

He laughed, then bowed low. "Think you can remember all the moves?"

"I used to dance my stuffed animals around before bed. I think if I can make Lancelot dance it right, I can do it with you."

Their banter ended when they started spinning. The music, some auto-tuned pop song with a thundering bass line, wasn't the best choice for a wedding song. Sarah thought it was even worse suited for something Mithir waited centuries for, so she decided to make it her best yet to compensate. They arched and curved around each other, all twisting arm movements and graceful lifts. Sarah peaked over at Sorcha at one point, and saw nothing but deep admiration on her face. Mithir had certainly picked a remarkable woman.

When the routine was almost over, Sarah got an impish grin on her face. The song had changed mid-way through and was now something everyone was dancing to in synchronization. When Sarah was supposed to duck under Mithir's outstretched arm and twirl away, she instead stepped away and broke out into the weirdest routine he'd ever seen. He stopped short, laughing at the strange human moves, but picked it up quickly. Pretty soon, they were having trouble keeping up with the music because they were laughing too hard.

When the song ended and they leaned on each other for support, Sorcha came by to give them a round of applause with tears in her eyes from laughing so hard. "Oh that was worth every year of waiting. Love, I don't think I've ever seen you look quite so undignified. Sarah, you and I have plenty of catching up to do. I had no idea Mithir had a side like this."

Sarah's cheeks were hurting at this point from all the joy she couldn't contain. Seeing Mithir had been the medicine she hadn't known she needed. "How long do you both have? We could leave and get a bite to eat, or maybe…"

The gymnasium lights flickered just then. Sorcha leaned over and whispered something into Mithir's ear.

"No, he told me he decided not to come tonight. I don't know why."

When the air was all of a sudden full of tiny flecks of glitter, Mithir pulled Sarah in for a quick hug. "I think we better go."

"You are _not_ leaving me with his tightiness," Sarah practically ordered. "We've barely said hello!"

"Sarah," Sorcha said, grasping her hand, "it was lovely meeting you. We'll come back, don't worry. Now that we've met I'm afraid I'll want to visit as often as fits with your schedule. Will you permit me to call?"

Mithir was nearly dragging his wife away now, "No time for that, Sorcha, look."

Sure enough, a man in a gold-flecked suit was sauntering towards the splitting trio. It wasn't hard to guess his identity, even with the shadows blocking his face. No one else had hair that stood up in that ethereal way, and no one else would dare come between Sarah and her best friend.

"It's ok Sorcha, we'll all get together again. I promise." she called off before squaring her shoulders towards the oncoming prick. For the first time since she became human, she felt a hint of magic pooling in her stomach, ready to defend its Queen.

When the man finally reached her he stood up to his full, glittering height and gave her his best smouldering stare.

"Hello, precious."

* * *

A/N: And by the skin of my teeth, I deliver an update before the new year, as promised. I stole the name for the halloween bash from my own college, actually, and most of the scene there is from my own, shudder-inducing memories, haha.

I got my mo-jo back and the story all re-outlined! I'm actually grateful I lost the first copy, since this ending will prove to be much better than my original ever could have been. Lemme know what you thought.

I also want to sincerely thank everyone who's commented so far. You guys make me feel so special and it's only because of you that I keep writing. Love love love you all, and happy new year!


	18. And Now We Dance

He bowed low before his Queen whose magic was angrily cracking off her skin. _Still just as passionate as ever, _he thought_._

He waited a safe distance away for her petulant whines, her 'it's not fair's, and all her seething looks. He'd been preparing for a tantrum after all; her letter suggested that the Sarah of now was very like Sarah from in his Labyrinth. She was supposed to be full of fire and brimstone, and then he'd swoop in with a kiss.

But Sarah didn't respond in any of those ways. In fact, if it weren't for the angry waves of magic, he wouldn't have known she was upset at all. Even their bond was silent on the matter. He was perfectly capable of a change in plans of course, but already this boded ill for his seduction schemes.

"Would you dance with me, Goblin King?"

_Maybe seduction's still on the table_. He supposed his formal title was better than 'his royal scumbagginess,' but it wasn't ideal. There was no chance for romance when he was nothing more than King. However, dancing would mean he would get to hold her, and from there the possibilities were endless.

"I would be most honored, my lady."

So she led him away from the crowded dance floor and towards an unoccupied corner in near total darkness. Since her dress was also an inky black, the skin that _was_ showing seemed to glow. Jareth became mesmerized as he drank it all in, her delicate fingers, her arms, shoulders, collarbone, neck, and face…. Oh wait. Her eyes were still very angry.

_Focus, Jareth. She's besting you at your own game. _

He cleared his throat and bowed again. "Precious, would you mind if I…" he then let his voice trail off, snapping his fingers to simultaneously freeze time around them and fill their bubble of space with waltzing music, "...changed things up a bit?"

Sarah nodded airily, not looking surprised in the least. "As long as you don't put me back into that ridiculous white gown. I looked more like a french pastry than a ball-goer."

He chuckled. "But my dear, you've always looked good enough to eat."

It was Sarah's turn to gulp now, and Jareth did a bit of internal gloating when he detected a faint blush on her cheeks. He had the upper hand once more, and decided to press his advantage. He held out a hand and when she accepted, he tugged her flush up against him.

"And now we dance," he murmured in her ear.

Sarah followed his lead in the dance for a while, intuitively bracing herself before he spun and trusting him when he dipped her. The music was nothing like the lethargic, hypnotizing song from their dance it the Labyrinth. Jareth had chosen this one specifically because there was energy to it, heat even. The pace forced him to guide her hips back and forth in a swinging motion, and he was becoming slightly delirious from the sensation. He forgot for a moment that she was even angry at him. It was a few minutes too late before he realized that should make him suspicious.

"So where's the lovely Roxa this evening?"

Jareth tripped over his left foot. He would have bowled Sarah over if she hadn't yanked him upright. Internally, every alarm bell, whistle, and gong was going off in his head, but externally he just took a deep breath and whistled it out.

"I can explain…"

"Oh, can you?" she said, her face unreadable, "Can you really, without twisting the truth?"

"Are you interested in actually hearing my explanation, or are you so sure of your own righteousness?"

She continued on as if he hadn't spoken, like she had memorized lines for a play. "You told me once you planned to have many lovers before we were wed. Seems to me you were looking for an excuse to continue afterward too. Turning your wife into an _insect_ must have been a particularly funny joke between the two of you."

Sarah was leading the dance now. Jareth was completely uncoordinated under her lead, stepping on his own feet more often than hers, even.

"You are my Queen. I would never-"

"Oh, you wouldn't, wouldn't you?" Sarah roughly yanked his shoulder to the right. "I saw a more violent side of you when running your Labyrinth than I ever dreamed possible. And for the record, what is _with _that Labyrinth? It's sadistic, watching some poor humans fail when all they want is their child back."

"You have no idea-"

"YOU have no idea, Jareth, no idea what you've put me through. Do you know how long I waited for you? How many years I kept telling myself you'd come, you'd save me, even after I saw you with that woman in OUR bed calling her MY name? And then you just let me rot here as a human, never _once_ trying to bring me back-"

"You know not of what you speak-"

"You made a big mistake thinking you could just swoop in an pretend like nothing ever happened-"

"No, my mistake was teaching Roxa such magic and underestimating what lengths a woman will go to when spurned. I wanted no part of what happened that night. I was under her spell as much as you were."

Sarah didn't cease leading the waltz, but his confession did cause her to hesitate, ever so slightly. When she didn't respond immediately, Jareth rushed onward.

"You could ask Mithir if you don't believe me. He was the one who helped me after I broke her spell. He saw how I missed you."

At this, the dancing stopped completely and Sarah stared at him wide-eyed. "You.. missed me?"

Jareth clenched his jaw and glared at her. "If my behavior is as you say, if I've ignored you, left you, thought nothing of you, then what explanation would cover why I've come back now, after so many years? Have you thought of that? Again, you fail to consider things from a point of view other than your own."

He squeezed her hand attempting to express something of his true feelings, since it would be suicide to try explaining them now. She _had _to understand. He took his other hand and traced the curve of her jaw with a finger.

Her eyes went from dazed back to hate-filled the moment their skin made contact. "Let go of me, Goblin King."

"Are we back to the formalities now, precious? Heard something we didn't like?"

"No, I'm just done with this conversation. I thought I could get you to understand."

"Ah, I think you're the one in need of understanding. You have missed quite a bit over the centuries, Etain. You know nothing of how we've tried to bring you back."

"Stop calling me that!" she hissed, struggling against the hand clenching around her wrist.

"What, your name? Afraid of that truth as well? Such a pity."

Those three words must have been the last straw for Sarah's magical reserve. It burst forth in a fit of protective energy, surrounding them both with dazzling wisps of glitter. In an instant, the music halted, time unfroze, and Sarah faded away, transporting herself who knows where.

"Damn it," Jareth swore, the loud thrum of the pop music filling the air once more. He reached up to run his hands through his hair in frustration. Instead, his fingers got caught as they felt something other than the soft tendrils of his wild mane. There was a knot at the back of his head. A big one.

He was about to summon a crystal to survey the damage, but was distracted by a passing dancer, scantily clad and pointing at his hair.

"I love a good man-bun. Really compliments the dark, seductive look you've got there."

He maneuvered around her without a word, then summoned the crystal under his coat jacket where no one could see. Sure enough, the reflection showed all his long, beautiful hair safely gathered up into an even bun, but the sides of his head…

"This is treason," he cursed, mentally locating the section of his library which dealt with magical damages as he left the gymnasium and took flight.

* * *

A/N: Check me out, writing two separate updates in a single week. I'm on fire.

Don't be afraid to leave any constructive criticism if you have any; I've gotten a few comments in the last week that have been very helpful! You guys rock my non-existent socks off.


	19. Magic and Marriages

When Sarah reappeared, it was upside-down, halfway off a desk, in a dark classroom. And everything hurt.

_Never used to have that much trouble with landings before, _she mused, _though I never had to do it in a human body. _

She surveyed her surroundings, grateful that her renegade magical reserve had at least had the courtesy to dump her somewhere nearby. However, when she realigned herself, she nearly toppled back over in fright. Standing mere inches away from her was her literature professor, frozen right in the middle of handing out scantron sheets.

She gazed around the room and found the entire lecture hall full of her Literature 101 classmates, all preparing to take the test from earlier that week. Jareth must have read her note here in class and taken out his frustration on these people here. Typical.

Still feeling the thrum of her magic shimmering in the air around her, she wondered if she would be able to un-freeze time. Looking doubtfully at her fingers, she snapped them in the same way she'd seen Jareth do in the gym.

Instantly, the room emptied of occupants and the air had a breathable quality once again, which surprised her. She had assumed that her classmates would have become animated and boisterous again, like someone pressed 'play' on them, but instead they must have returned to wherever they would have been at this time today, perhaps wondering why they had only fuzzy memories of the week. In the lecture hall, papers that had been frozen mid flight floated to the floor like a dusting of snow, and Sarah felt properly alone.

Well, alone except for her magic. It almost felt alive at this point. She snapped her fingers again and summoned a crystal to her tips. She let it slide up and down her arms until she transformed it into a peach. She hadn't eaten all day, being so distracted by her preparations for the dance. She licked the juice off her fingers thoughtfully, wondering what else had changed along with her tastebuds now that her magic was flowing again.

Looking up at the ceiling, she could see plenty of airspace and decided she should try a transformation next. Though considered one of the more advanced forms of magic, it had always come easily to Etain as a girl. She remembered what her old tutor had taught her, sink deep into the magic til you find that inner form, close your eyes, yank your magical center forward, and jump.

But nothing happened. She tried again, and then once more, but the feeling of feather nubs pushing through her skin, or the elongation of her neck into the graceful arc of the swan's never came. On any other night this might have made her stop trying, but tonight she was full of hope.

Hours ticked by as she tried various forms of magic. By dawn, she had remembered how to transport herself around the room, conjure anything with her crystals, reorder time however she wanted, even glamour herself up to look like a forty year old man. She'd never been able to dip into the dreams of others or create new ones and the same was true now, but every other branch of magic, except for bloody transformations, was waiting at her fingertips. She even imagined that she could transport herself back to the Underground if she liked, but worried that Jareth would have found a way to trap her there if she tried.

Which was too bad, since she really could go for a native, Underground-grown peach.

* * *

Jareth had a list three pages long (and growing) detailing ways he could retaliate for Sarah's idiocy.

_Either in Etain's body or this one, she should have known better than to touch my hair, _he fumed. It had taken him quite a while to get his actual hair to grow out, though glamours existed for a reason until reality caught up.

Right now though, he was hunting down his advisor who'd been missing since lunchtime. Mithir always knew what Etain's buttons were, and he wanted to make sure this retribution would _hurt. _When he thought he'd checked everywhere in the castle, he heard Mithir's voice through the window from the garden below.

"You've seen the kids I take care of, Sorcha," he was saying, "once the King collects the wished-away, half of them are battered and broken, and the others are right brats!"

"I've seen them," she said, softly. "If I remember rightly, I've helped you with them, too. My heart goes out to them, the poor dears. To be without the love of a mother or father for so long you either end up an empty shell or an angry beast… I can't imagine the kind of person who treats a child that way."

"You get too attached when you help. I know," Mithir said, huffing, "but having one of your own is different. It's not just thirteen hours to cuddle or do emotional triage. This is full-time, eternal care we're talking about. I'm not up for that."

"I know the difference, Mithir. You forget I was the eldest of four. I practically raised Finbar myself once our parents died. I know what it is to care for a child."

Jareth stuck his head out the window slightly to get a better look. He knew it was childish to eavesdrop, but something about Mithir's new marriage intrigued him. Currently, Mithir was pacing with crossed arms and a look on his face even Jareth knew better than to cross. It was somewhere between a donkey refusing to move and a hippogriff about to charge. Jareth found himself pitying Mithir's wife, whose name still escaped him, for trying to face down Mithir in a mood like this.

"Well then, what about us?" he continued, "Marriages change after having a child, and we've hardly been married a year by Underground time. We would never be able to go out alone anymore. We've got eons to make a plan, which, by the way, we don't have now. And don't even mention-"

"Mithir?" Sorcha asked softly, looking up at him with eyes full of unshed tears. Mithir stopped his rambling at first glance. She took a deep breath, then continued, "This is important. I've always wanted my own child, maybe multiple children. We could come up with a hundred, maybe a thousand reasons not to have kids. But, please. Don't throw the idea away just because you're scared."

In an instant, Jareth watched the tense, immovable Mithir crumble as he took his wife into his arms and pressed a kiss to her temple. He whispered something into her ear that Jareth quite couldn't make out, but the meaning was clear. Cupping her hand in his, he lead her through the garden archway and they entered into the rose maze, hand in hand.

Jareth sighed and leaned against the window, lost in thought.

* * *

A/N: I know I've left this story in the lurch before, but that was a really long break, and I apologize. If you didn't notice, I started writing a Harry Potter fanfic to get my muse back in gear, and it worked! Now I'm brimming with excitement to write the last few chapters of this story, because they're really good. We will have a happy ending in five chapters, and it'll be mostly fluff until then.

Also, if any of you have read the Sevenwaters series by Juliet Marillier, some of these names will look familiar. I don't use the characters or cross them over in anyway, but I love stealing their names. If you need a good original fiction series, check hers out, for sure. Magical and Irish, just like this (and, to a lesser degree, Labyrinth itself).

Aside from timing of updates and your incredible patience, anything else you liked/didn't like?


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